Seductress
by a mountain of gideon's scones
Summary: Claire/Michael. There's a deep desire between the pair of them, something ignited when they're together. But, unfortunately, there's Shane in the way. And just what happens when Amelie finds out? R&R /complete
1. Dreams

**Chapter 1:**

***Claire/Michael* - that's the pairing… don't like, don't read.**

**I don't own anything.**

***written for katieeblaah***

**This is the fourth time I have tried to write a Claire/Michael fic in two days, btu the other three haven't worked yet… I will try and make them work in the future, but for now this is enough, I think.**

_Claire's POV:_

His hands, smooth without bumps or calluses, run over my arms and I shiver at his touch, the delight that he is with me almost making my head explode with the anticipation. We're standing in the middle of a beautiful field, the sun shining and the birds chirping, but I don't see any of it.

All I see is Michael.

"You're the most beautiful and perfect thing that I have ever seen," he whispers into my ear, making me blush at the lack of truth in his words. I look up into his face and see only sincerity, no lies or extensions of the truth evident. He believes in what he has said – he truly does. "I love you," he whispers as I become transfixed in his brilliant blue eyes, the exact opposite almost of my chocolate brown ones.

"I love you," I respond and he smiles before lowering his head to my own. His lips move slowly to meet my own, taunting me almost at the excruciatingly long time it takes for us to join together. My breathing increases as the anticipation hits me before, finally, we meet and a bunch of fireworks set off.

It's truly perfect – the kiss, that is. It begins slow, deep, increasing in intensity as we get further into it. My body twists into his to be as close to him as possible, his arms pulling me into him from behind whilst I lock my fingers into his golden locks. The hair spikes up in a mess and I laugh into his mouth at him looking so dishevelled, but never hotter.

"I love you," I repeat as his tongue forces its way into my mouth, but not really forcing because I _want_ it there. I kiss him back harder and harder and he does the same before suddenly we are falling and lying on the grass, the moment entirely perfect.

His hands move down to my top and begin to move it up after I give permission…

OoOoOo

I wake up with a start, a heavy blush over my cheeks as I process what I was dreaming. I was dreaming of Michael and me… doing things. But more than that – I dreamt that we were in _love_. I mean, that's impossible, right? I love Shane and Michael loves Eve… it's a dream. That's all it was.

I look over at Shane, embarrassment and guilt at what I was dreaming about hitting me ever more so as I look at his sleeping figure. He is so innocent and knows nothing of what his girlfriend was just thinking… I can only thank my subconscious that it stopped _before_ it went any further because, lets face it, that would make it impossible to look at Michael again.

I snuggle into Shane's side, deciding that whatever that dream was, I can ignore it. It has no bearing on what I want in life – I love Shane and I don't see how my subconscious telling me something different can change it.

_Michael's POV:_

I lie awake in my bed, unable to sleep for longing. Eve lies in my arms, in a deep slumber, but all I can think of is Claire – the girl I want. She is the girl who is exactly what I want.

I have loved Claire ever since she came to this godforsaken town as a sixteen year old, although she insisted on labelling herself as almost seventeen. Her innocence, the way she needed to be protected but vehemently denied it, lured me to her and I realised then I could see her with me for the rest of my life. She was the first one I revealed my status as a ghost to, and I even let her stay in the house even though she would only bring trouble. I was right about that: I don't actually think this entire _town_'s residents have faced as much trouble in their long lives.

The only couple I can think that break this pattern would be my Grandad and Amelie, the Founder who has had rather a lot of trouble in her life, especially since she almost lost Sam because her father almost killed him. god, I can't thank Claire enough (her and Myrnin) for bringing him back… to have lost my only relative in this town would have been worse than anything else I can think of.

She awakens – Claire, that is – and I instantly stiffen; what if there is something wrong. She _never_ wakes up during the night, ever! So why is she awake now?

Her breathing increases and she fidgets around – my hearing is entirely focused on her, so I can hear her every movement, her every heartbeat as if it is right next to me. I love her so much… it hurts for her to be with Shane and me being with Eve – it isn't right. I love her… I need her… I want her…

She settles back down with Shane and I know she thinks she is happy right now – but I know she would be so much happier with me. That sounds so self assured, doesn't it? As if I know that she would be at the epitome of her happiness if she is with me, rather than Shane. But I know it is true – we would both be happy as we both compliment each other. She could accept me as a vampire much easier than the other two could; perhaps it's because Amelie 'owns her' or that she enjoys her time working with Myrnin (both vampires, obviously) I don't know, but I know that I love the way that she accepted me as if I were the old Michael still.

"Hey, you're awake," Eve's sleepy voice reverts me back to reality and away from Claire. I look down at her from my position leaning against the headboard and smile, pressing my lips to her forehead in a meaningless gesture.

"Yeah, go back to sleep, Eve," I whisper, tightening my grip on her to pretend that she is Claire.

She does as I suggest, dropping back into the world of the unconscious within less than a minute. I shut my eyes and breathe deeply before falling asleep myself. But I don't dream of Eve or music or whether or not I'll make it through the day tomorrow – normal things.

I dream of Claire…

**Well… this chapter is the first one! Sorry it's a little short… I was going to make it longer but I thought the dream would have been longer than it was.**

**So, yeah… please review!**

**Vicky xx**


	2. Silver Nitrate Fights

**Chapter 2:**

**Thanks for all the reviews!**

**As to updating, there is a note on my profile if you're interested xD**

***Myrnin walks in* - No! you **_**have**_** to update with the stories that I am in, at least.**

***I roll my eyes* - Myrnin, stop being so self obsessed and controlling… I have a life, you know!**

**Myrnin – no you don't… you love me too much!**

**Me – true… I guess… ok, so what do you want?**

***Myrnin smiles smugly* - you to write me in this story and then write a chapter update for a story with me in.**

***I sigh and nod* - deal, but you're not in here yet, kay? And ok… tomorrow.**

***Myrnin walks away, happy now he has blackmailed me***

**Enjoy the chapter!**

**I don't own anything…**

* * *

_Claire's POV:_

Well _what_ a surprise! Shane is out _again_, and I doubt that he is at work, since the shop shut three hours ago! Eve is out at Common Grounds, working since Oliver offered her a job three times her UC salary and better hours, so it's just me and Michael in the house.

"Michael, it's your turn to cook, so what's for dinner?" I yell from in the living room through to the kitchen, where he is working on his 'masterpiece' called dinner. It will just be something like fish fingers, won't it? I'm not expecting much…

"My masterpiece, which _is_ a masterpiece, shall be ready in five minutes so _quit moaning_!" he calls through from the kitchen. So I settle down on the sofa and quash my hungry stomach with the mountain of homework I have to do, until he emerges from the kitchen wearing an apron. "My lady, your wondrous meal awaits you," he puts on an accent and pretends to be a vampire butler as he shows me to the dining room table and pulls the chair out for me.

The lights are down low, in a sultry setting, but it seems fitting, especially with the table laid for two. Michael has set the table with the good cutlery and plates which match each other and I sit waiting for the dinner which apparently is a 'masterpiece'…

…but then a thought hits me. The low lighting, the food, _everything…_

It seems like a date.

* * *

_Michael's POV:_

She is waiting for me to complete my masterpiece of food which has taken me over an hour to prepare: homemade tomato soup with croutons followed by homemade pizza and then chocolate ice cream from the shop, since it is too hard to make it in a short time. I've spent so long preparing everything but in a way that makes it look as if it was effortless, so she doesn't realise that I wanted everything to be perfect. I laid the table earlier for two, since I knew Eve would be at work and Shane would be with his drinking buddies he made when he stopped spending time in the house... Probably around the time I became a vampire. It's like he thinks it is catching or something, being a vampire, since he doesn't like being around me _ever_... Unless it is to threaten me pointlessly.

I'm not in love with Claire because Shane is an ass: that would make _me _an ass for doing something so low to someone who is sometimes still my best friend, and then also my girlfriend. No, the love I _know _I have for Claire is deep and intense, having true roots in me: her brilliance, her personality, the way she protects everything she sees, even if she doesn't particularly like them/it. There's just so much that I love about her.

I show her to the table, making sure the lighting is lower so it is easier for me to pretend that this is a dare, before returning to the kitchen and bringing out the first course. We eat a few mouthfuls in silence before some sort of worry in her face catches my eye. Why is she worried? I'm now getting worried because she is: does she not like the soup or is it something else?

"Claire, what's up?" I ask in a light tone, as a best friend would do. I _hate _the way I can't show how much I care about her, since we're in relationships with others, and just wanting to know whether or not she feels anything back for me is killing me!

"How come we're having three courses?" she asks, which is _entirely _not what I expected. Shit! I've just realised we normally have two, max! This seems _like such a date!_

"I found a recipe book in my room in one of the boxes my parents left and I decided that I'd try out the soup and the pizza," I shrug, making it up on the spot. "Of course, I'd began prepping it before I realised Shane and Eve wouldn't be home but we can enjoy it, right?" I beam with slightly _too _much on the charm side, so much so that she gets tense again: I can hear it in the change in her heartbeat.

"Why is the lighting lower than normal?" she questions another thing... Dammit... I wouldn't have thought she'd have realised. Ok, solution... I need one, and fast!

"My eyes have been hurting, what with how much more sensitive they are now, and I just dimmed them a bit in here - is that alright?" I decide to play the vampire card because she can't dispute the thing about my eyes and the only vamp who is young enough to remember their early vamp days is Sam... And he's off sucking up to Amelie again, even though she pushes him away all the time. He wouldn't tell Claire I was making it up: I have a sneaking suspicion that he knows where my heart truly lies...

"Oh, you've never mentioned it before," she blinks, seeming shocked with my answer.

"Didn't want King Shane of Moanville to complain or to have _more _ammunition than my already being a vampire... I didn't think you would mind," I sigh deeply at the mention of Shane and just how complicated everything is! If only I had told Claire _straight away _how I possibly felt, we could have bypassed all of this and been happy. But no, I couldn't do that. So we're in a pickle: well, I am.

She throws her head back and laughs and it is so utterly perfect, it makes my heart hurt that I can't move around and kiss her right now.

To hide this longing, I get up and take away the plates, bringing through the next course -pepperoni pizza, because it is her favourite...

"So, today, I _totally _owned Myrnin at this game of chess he insisted on playing as he found the old board but then he cheated and flicked my king over and then pretending _I _had done it! I was so annoyed!" Claire babbles on about her day, but I get caught up in the way she rolls her fingers around in her hair, the way her brown eyes sparkle as she describes the mundane chores she did in the lab.

"Sounds great!" I enthuse brightly, trying to make it appear as if I had been entirely focused on the entire conversation. She doesn't notice anything amiss, simply jabbering about something else, which makes me laugh slightly. I love hearing her voice, the sweet way in which she describes everything in such loving detail that even something which is so simple and boring can end up sounding magical… I wonder if she will ever be able to do that with me in the future, saying that her relationship with me is simple but perfect… I hope.

We finish dinner but there is _still_ no sign of Shane or Eve, so Claire helps me wash up. I pretend that there is food galore for the others, even though there is just enough for them to eat if they want it, before washing up whilst she dries and puts away.

"What have you done today, then Michael?" she suddenly asks me, breaking the silence in which I was dreaming of kissing her.

_Thinking of you,_ I almost let slip out before swallowing and taking a deep breath. Then I smile and shrug, pretending as if I'd done nothing. "Well, I went to do some guitar lessons this morning to make some money. Then I came home and decided to sort through some of the stuff my parents left me but I never got around to dealing with. Then I began my prep for dinner and, voila, here we are!" I smile again before suddenly getting the urge to splash her with the water.

So I dunk my hands in the hot and soapy water before waiting for her to come back over again before flicking her right in the face.

"Michael!" she squeals, agog that I could do that. I gather fresh ammunition as she wipes the water from her face before dunking her own hands in the basin, not dunking me but messing with my hair so that it sticks up everywhere.

I grab the basin from the sink before proceeding to chuck it behind me every few steps to splash her some more. Soon, she is absolutely soaking and looks as if she wants to kill me… but I don't care. We're having fun!

"Michael Glass, if you do not set that basin down _right now_, I will stake you," she hisses, evidently pretty damned angry. In the corner of my eye, I see she is going for the water gun underneath the sink but I pretend to ignore that, instead setting down the basin on the table before… "Gotcha!" she screams, firing the gun at me…

… but instead of water inside, it's silver nitrate, which burns my bare skin.

"Argh!" I scream, dropping to the floor to avoid the still flying jet which could kill me. "Claire, stop! It's silver!" I yell, as she doesn't seem to grasp that I'm in pain.

"Oh god, Michael, I am _so_ sorry!" she cries, throwing the gun down and rushing over to me. I feel my face blistering and burning and barely stop myself from crying out even more in agony – I don't want to appear weak. But I realise, as I heal _very_ slowly, that I am getting thirsty and need something to drink – blood. "I didn't realise… honestly, it was an accident!" she continues, beginning to cry as she realises just how much pain I am in.

"It… doesn't… matter," I whisper, shifting myself to sit upright against the wall, looking down at my hands. They are red raw and healing, but they look as if I've been out in the sun as a human for 40 days straight with no sun protection whatsoever. Which, incase you couldn't tell, is _not_ good.

"What can I get you?" she asks me, her hands on my shoulders causing me pain but I ignore it because she is touching me! Just her touch sends endorphins through my body, blocking out the finer tuning of the pain to make it just a dull burn which seems to be consolidating in my throat.

"Blood," I whisper, not wanting to want it in front of her because it is so disgusting for her to watch, but I have to.

She nods slowly, getting up and moving across the room to the fridge, where she takes the sports bottle in which I keep my blood I need out of it before handing it gingerly over to me.

I grasp it in my injured hand and take a huge swig, my vision turning blurry and crimson as I do so: one of the side effects of drinking blood. I don't dare to look at Claire full on, incase she is looking at me in horror, but in my peripheral vision I sneak a glance. She doesn't look disgusted… she just looks curious… or maybe it's concern… I don't know what it is – the entire emotional, touchy-feely stuff I leave to the girls. I don't know what you say!

"Are you any better?" she asks me quietly as I polish off the bottle, and set it on the floor. I take a deep breath and feel myself through my brain, realising that I'm entirely back to normal again.

"Yeah, I'm great," I tell her honestly and she smiles before wrapping her arms around me. Oh _damn_, I'm not that great… the smell of her blood, the lusciousness of her beating heart pumping her blood around is irresistible… but I need to resist.

My fangs slide down, preparing to sink into her neck. But I manage to stop myself. _You love her_, I repeat, over and over again. _You need her. You love her. To hurt her would be to hurt yourself._

"Wanna go play some zombie killing games?" she suggests with a grin when she (thankfully) pulls away.

"I thought you would never ask!" I laugh, managing to sound entirely happy and believable.

I hope.

* * *

**So, what did you think?**

**It's a LOT longer than last time and I hope it was better!**

**Please review!**

***grins*... lots of reviews, both here and on other stories, make me update quickly... hehe!**

**Vicky xx**

**P.S... I wrote the majority of this chapter after 1AM, so if it's a little dodgy, blame sleep deprivation!**


	3. Decisions

**Chapter 3:**

**Thank you for all the great reviews!**

**SORRY for not updating for like AGES but exams... but... STUDY LEAVE HAS BEGUN TODAY!**

***Musical inspiration: Science & Faith, The Script – I fricking LOVE this album!***

**I don't own anything! **

_Michael's POV:_

Life continues on, in a normal fashion. No matter what I feel, I cannot let Eve or Shane know, for fear that they could, they _would_, leave the Glass House. I couldn't cope with myself if they went out there alone and died facing a vamp when I could have saved them: this vamp thing comes in handy sometimes.

We play the zombie busting game for a few hours, me letting Claire win every now and then simply so that it didn't get boring for her; if it got boring, then she would give up so much sooner than if I let her win sometimes.

"Score!" she exclaims with a grin as I basically _told_ her what to do in order to win the round. "Michael, you're losing your touch!" she continues and it basically takes all my strength to keep my competitive side under wraps and not tell her that I am basically letting her win.

"I guess I am," I sigh, bowing my head in shame. I'm about to recommend that we go and get some ice cream when the door _finally_ opens: Shane is home. It isn't that I'm not happy to see that he is safe; just he _had_ to interrupt when I was going for the best thing in the world! "Shane, where have you been?" I explode at him, moving across the room to slam the door shut behind him.

He is _utterly_ smashed, sozzled, whatever you want to call it – and the fact he is underage is what shows up how bad Morganville is: if bartenders don't care about serving blatantly underage kids, you know that there must be something for them to want to get away from. Hence the vampires…

"j-just the pub, Michael, don't get so worked up about it," he slurs, evidently not seeing his _girlfriend _behind me. Then he does. "Claire! How are you? Coming to bed?" he asks her, actually expecting the answer to be yes!

I turn around to face her and see the emotions I would want her to see: anger, that he is like this, and disgust, that he actually expects her to want to go to bed with a drunken idiot who hasn't cared for his girlfriend's well-being throughout his four hour binge drinking session enough to give her a call and tell her where he was.

"Go to bed, Shane, and we'll talk when you're sober," she says to him sharply, but I can see the beginnings of a tear in her eye. She is hurt that he is like this, that he went out and got _drunk_ rather than come home and spend time with her.

He moves across to her, but she backs away, closer to me. I won't pretend that the fact that she is coming to _me_ for comfort doesn't make me happy; it would be entirely against what I have been trying to get her to realise for so long. But anyway, that isn't the point right now.

"Go to _bed_ Shane!" she cries at him, making him stop and look at her. She averts her eyes from his gaze but he continues to look at her for a long while before huffing and turning away to go up the stairs. We both watch as he staggers up them, heading straight into his room and slamming the door shut, before relaxing and exchanging looks. "Michael, why has he gone and done that?" she asks me, a tear actually escaping her eye now.

I cross the metre or so distance between us and enclose her in a huge hug, smiling into her shoulder as her arms wrap around my back. But the smile ceases as she begins to sob, huge raucous of them racking her entire frame, and I focus entirely on soothing her, trying to get her to calm down.

"Everything will be ok, Claire, it will," I repeat, pulling her over to sit on the sofa with me. She still clings to me, though I can hear that the tears and sobs are fading; they may be fading slowly, but they're still fading. "He's just in one of his royal prick phases. He'll be back to normal before you know it," _but I don't want him to_, I think on the end of this, knowing that when they're fine, she will never cheat or admit to feeling anything for anyone but Shane.

"I know… it's just, it feels like he is fading from me – he never wants to spend time with me and now he would rather go and get _drunk_ rather than be in the same house as me," she says, finally able to speak coherently.

I kiss her forehead softly, in a short bout, so that it seems friendly and not at all romantic, before smiling slightly. But I make sure that she can't see the smile, as that would sort of be against what she wants.

"Claire, you have to think it through: you have to weigh it up and decide whether or not you can cope with the stress and emotional baggage that Shane seems to bring up every now and then," I tell her honestly, hoping that she will choose the no-Shane route so that I may have a chance of getting her… once I find a way to let Eve down. But how?

She pulls back from me, finally, and looks me in the eyes. She seems so innocent and yet so mature at the same time, naïve is not a word I could normally use in conjunction with Claire but she is so naïve about my feelings for her!

I continue to look at her in the eyes, not breaking the contact until I can hear Eve's progression up the stairs. I can't hurt her by letting her see me so blatantly in love with Claire right now, so I look away and lean back on the sofa, shutting my eyes and just envisioning her face behind my eyelids.

"I'm going to go to go to bed now, thanks Michael," she says, smiling at me though I can't see it – I can hear it in the way that her face muscles are moving.

"Have a good night's sleep, Claire," I whisper as she walks away. She is up the stairs before Eve is even opening the door, and I realise that she should have been home two hours ago. Wherever the hell _she_ has been, I don't know, but I'm going to question her, provided that she isn't half as pissed as Shane is.

"Michael, hey," she smiles as she comes in the door, slamming it shut behind her and locking it.

"Eve, you're two hours late – where have you been?" I ask her sharply, standing up and opening my eyes to look at her. She looks just as she normally does, something which used to endear me to her but not anymore.

"Amazingly, Michael, I have friends outside of this house," she snaps at me, throwing her bag on the floor. I don't know why she is being so snappy with me – I thought that she was the one who wanted to keep everything going la-de-da between us, not like this. "I don't have to tell you where I am _every_ second of the day, as you most _certainly_ don't relay the same information back to me," she continues, before balling her hands up and looking as if she wants to punch me. That's a first for Eve in relation to me…

"Look, go to bed and we'll talk in the morning," I sigh, ordering her to basically leave me alone. I don't want to split up with her yet, as we _do_ have some good times… sometimes, but I don't like pretending.

"Whatever," she spits back at me, running up the stairs faster than I thought possible.

Only when she has gone, do I realise she never answered my question. But I push every thought of Eve out of my mind and focus on Claire, realising that she showed a connection with me today. Whether it was when she was showering me in silver nitrate (not a good thing for a vampire) or when she locked into my eyes by _her_ choice, I don't know.

But maybe I stand a chance.

**So… about an average length chapter! Yay!**

**You know the drill: you read, you review XD**

**Do this… and maybe I sacrifice revision again for a new chapter!**

**Going to nandos now so I would love reviews for reading when I'm back!**

**Vicky xx**


	4. Since When Do Vampires Drop Things?

**Chapter 4:**

**Thanks for the reviews! I really hope you like it!**

**RACHEL CAINE TWITTERED ME BACK! WHOOOP! I have _three_ tweets from her!**

* * *

_Claire's POV:_

"Claire, I'm so sorry about last night," Shane presses me to forgive him but I can't. I mean, he preferred to go and get smashed with some people he doesn't even know than to come home to me. To be honest, I'm not that bothered because I had a pretty rocking time with Michael but that_ completely_ isn't the point – he wasn't here with me.

"Shane, I can't… you came in and expected me to _sleep_ with you," I inform him sharply, and by the look on his face he didn't expect to have done that. "I just don't see how it's fair that you do something so ridiculous and expect me to forgive you like _that_," I snap my fingers to show my point and he winces, evidently the noise hurting his hungover head.

"I said I was sorry," he pleads with me, moving across the space between us faster than I thought possible for someone who probably is still half cut and grabs my hand. I could pull away but just his touch calms me down slightly, even though I'm still mad. "Claire, you don't know how much I wish that I hadn't done it. Please, forgive me," he whispers, his eyes meeting my own. I feel my resolve weakening and I'm glad for the interruption from Michael walking into the room to let me get away from him.

"Hey guys," he smiles as he walks in the room and I smile back, unable to resist her charms. He smiles back in a slightly different way than his smile of about three seconds ago and something stirs in my stomach for an unknown reason.

"Hey," I say with a pleasant tone, taking a sip of my coffee as I process everything this morning. After last night, Michael is still being a little cool with Shane but the person who was in the wrong doesn't seem to remember this… nonetheless, I think he can tell that Michael has a bit of a problem with him because there is some sort of tension in the air that I wish wasn't there.

"How are you?" Michael asks me as Shane walks out of the room without a word, returning to being distant within a second more of the prolonged eye contact between him and Michael.

"I'm fine… he's being so _strange_ – one minute he's begging for forgiveness and then the next he is acting as if we barely know one another," I sigh, banging my head against the hand which doesn't have the coffee mug in. suddenly, the hand stops coming at my head and I realise that Michael has taken hold of it, smiling at me as he does so.

"Attacking your head with your own hand isn't going to make a difference to Shane being a prick," he informs me with a touch of flippancy to his voice.

"Well it certainly is making me feel a lot better about it at the current moment in time," I respond indignantly, feeling a strange rush of something or other as I contradict Michael.

"Sure, well enjoy the headache that'll come – and don't go crying to me about it because vampires can't get headaches," he laughs, releasing my arm. As he does so, it seems as if a cold wave has just ran over the spot where he has been holding me, highlighting the exact places where his fingers pressed into my skin. But I shouldn't be thinking about this… why _am_ I thinking about how he held my arm to stop me hitting myself in the head again?

"Can vampires not get headaches?" I question him with the first thing that comes into my head to distract me from the mind confusing thoughts about where he held my arm. He shrugs and pours himself another cup of coffee before sitting down at the table.

"I dunno, I just said it to try and distract you from your path of self harm," he smiles at this and I can't help but laughing at the absurdity of the randomness that has just spilled out of his mouth. "Perhaps we ought to run a test: which common diseases can mow down vampires? As apparently Alzheimers could… why not headaches?" he continues the random psychobabble and I think he would actually fit in well in a mental institute at this current moment in time.

"You are _crazy_!" I say through the choking fits of laughter his final sentence put me into and he shrugs.

"If you say I am, then I am," he replies in an offhand way which confuses me. As I turn to look at him in confusion as to what he meant (well I hope it is confusion since I'm still laughing) he continues, "I mean you work for the most crazy ass vampire in town. If _anyone_ can define crazy, it's you."

The reminder about crazy ass vampire boss jolts me into action. "Shit, shit, _shit_," I mutter as I glance up at the clock and realise I'm late.

"What is it?" Michael asks me, confused as to my sudden rushes of motion around the place.

"I'm late and the crazy ass vampire boss is going to kill me," I moan, pulling on shoes as I talk before shoving the books I could possibly need in a bag. "If I don't come home, Michael, know that he killed me and that you need to find a new person who can measure crazy around here," I smile slightly as I wrap my arm around his back for a quick goodbye hug before darting towards the far wall where I summon a portal: I think risking a few brain cells today is a better option than being about half an hour late for Myrnin!

OoOo

I come home for about 5pm to find Shane waiting for me in the living room. As soon as I enter, he shoots upright and smiles at me, rushing across the room to take my bag from me.

"Have a good day?" he asks me, back to the Shane he was _before_ Michael walked into the kitchen this morning.

"Yeah, it was good," I say, remembering the hysterics caused by Myrnin pouring the wrong acid in the mixture meaning that it went poof all over the lab. It wasn't _quite _as funny afterwards, however, when he made me clean up the majority of it, only cleaning the things _way_ out of my reach… I mean _come on_! I'm human; how am I meant to reach the ceiling with no ladders in the entire lab? "How was work?" I ask him, taking his hand: in my wondrous time cleaning today, I realised that I can't stay mad at him for one drunken night – I'm sure I'll have the odd one or two when I'm older so I should let him have his.

His face lights up as I touch his hand before he pulls me closer to him. "Work was good," he whispers into my ear, his other hand on my hip. "I missed you like crazy though," he says and the word 'crazy' reminds me of the conversation with Michael earlier. But I push everything out of my mind besides Shane as his head lowers towards my own and his lips press to mine. My spare hand squeezes the back of his neck to lower his head further and I really get into the kiss, until a crashing noise from the other room startles me.

"Everything ok?" I call through to the kitchen, where a distressed looking Michael is just emerging.

"Yeah, I just… I just dropped something – it's fine," he smiles briefly before disappearing back into the room. Shane pulls me along by the hand to sit on the sofa with him and I do so, but my mind is elsewhere…

… since when do vampires _drop_ things?

* * *

_Michael's POV- when Claire enters the house:_

She's forgiven him already – from the way that she is letting him take her bag from her I can tell that. Don't ask me how: it's just a skill I've managed to pick up from observing her for so long… that makes me sound like a stalker, doesn't it?

I continue to cut the vegetables for dinner and try to ignore the conversation going on in the hallway and distract myself with thoughts of me and Claire but it doesn't work: if I were human (or even a ghost) I would be able to block it out but having vampire senses doesn't make it particularly easy for me.

She is discussing her day and just hearing her voice makes me relax slightly: when I came into the kitchen this morning, it was deliberate. I didn't _want_ her to forgive him so easily – he had to at least wait the day out in discomfort. And I succeeded there… I just half hoped she would enjoy making him suffer a little more than she evidently did.

With a sickening clarity, I can hear every movement as he bends over to kiss her, though that could be because I am concentrating so hard on them out there. So, in an attempt to calm myself down and to ignore them _again_, I throw the vegetables into the steamer and begin to chop more and more… but after a few moments of hearing their kissing, it enrages me to the point where I just can't take it anymore.

With a movement so out of character for me, I whirl around and send the steamer full of vegetables flying across the room, where it crashes into the wall with a sickening thud. It dents one of Eve's paintings but that doesn't concern me – I haven't seen her since last night but she must have cleared out pretty damned early to not be here and she's probably out with her 'friends' again.

The rage continues to swirl around me as I see red – literally. My fangs slide down from their place in my gums and the colour of my eyes turn from sky blue to utter crimson, no patches whatsoever retaining their humanity. The monster in me wants to go to Shane and rip him apart, to drink his blood and to remove the only obstacle in the way to me and Claire being together. However, I manage to take a cool and calming breath to relax, forcing my fangs back into my mouth and making my eyes turn back to their natural colour.

I can hear commotion from Claire about the noise – a bonus I never considered before I acted; it broke up their kiss – so I go to the kitchen door and poke my head through. I don't have a clue what emotion I am showing but I give a quick smile as I respond to her question about everything being ok.

"Yeah, I just… I just dropped something – it's all fine," I reply before ducking back into the kitchen, almost ashamed of my outburst as I begin to clean up the mess left from the throwing of the steamer.

She has accepted him back without as much as a proper apology. She took him back when he probably slept with someone else and she doesn't know… this all shows her kind and caring side, the way that she believes the best in everyone…

… It also makes it harder for me to get her…

* * *

**Whatcha think?**

**Please review!**

**NO UPDATES UNTIL HANNAH (HANZIII) REVIEWS, SO TELL HER TO REVIEW!**

**Vicky xx**


	5. I Know

**Chapter 5:**

**Thanks for the reviews!**

**I don't own anything**

**Dedicated to Hanzii! YOU DON'T NEED TO HATE THEM; JUST LOVE ME!**

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_Michael's POV:_

Weeks pass and I can see that there is a sort of distancing between Claire and Shane. You see, I can see that they are spreading apart; it isn't just my imagination, the desire I have for them to split apart isn't overruling reality to me. No… they are separating between themselves and it has absolutely nothing to do with me. I haven't done a single thing besides end up drifting further apart from Eve, which is rather depressing to be honest. After all, if Claire and Shane never split up, I am going to be left alone.

But would I rather be in a relationship that isn't right and is a lie, or be alone and know that it is for the best? I mean, I am going to live forever but Eve has a chance to fall in love again and move on. So I need to end it soon…

But I can only hope that Claire comes to her senses soon and realises that Shane isn't the one for her. He just isn't! They are entirely different and he has absolutely no interest in her and what she wants. The only thing he seems to care about is accusing her of cheating on him with Myrnin, something which is entirely impossible since he is so hung up on Ada. He only sees Claire as a daughter almost… that's it. At least, I hope so as otherwise there are _three_ competitors for Claire's affections: Shane (who has the best chance, since, you know, _she is already dating him_) me and Myrnin.

I would definitely loose.

"Are you alright?" I ask her gently as she walks into the kitchen where I stand, her face flushed. It's because I have been forcing myself not to listen to the escalating argument between herself and Shane, but it was so hard. I had to remind myself that I want to be human, that all the struggles I go through are to appear this way and to use my vampire 'powers' to eavesdrop is _wrong_… especially when the eavesdropping is just to try and get myself more ammo to try and get my Claire. But no, that isn't what I should do…

She shrugs her shoulders and sinks into the chair next to mine, tears sliding down her face as she does so. "I hate this, Michael, the constant arguing between us: we're supposed to be in _love_, but half the time I think just _what_ is the point?" she moans, leaning towards me slightly. I respond instinctively, not really thinking about what I am doing but just doing it.

That's how I find Claire in my arms, me comforting her through the pain of being unsure what to do in life, whether or not she should stay with Shane or go off and be happy. But the issue I _know_ she must be feeling to take the latter option is that she would have to live in the same house as him: could she cope with that? But that is the question I have been asking myself for weeks now, ever since I realised I love Claire; can I keep living with Shane and Eve if she accepts me?

"Thanks for this, Mike," she says with a small sigh, wiping the tears from her eyes with the corner of my shirt, as though she doesn't remember that I am not Shane. "Oh, god, sorry, I didn't mean to," she suddenly continues, evidently remembering that I am Michael, not Shane…

"It's fine; it's only a shirt," I tell her light heartedly, happier than anyone could possibly comprehend because she needed me. She may be going back to Shane, or most likely that happening, but… but she needed me, at least for a short time.

At the moment where I am debating whether or not to release her from the hug, Eve walks in. I can see her face and she _really_ doesn't look happy at seeing me and Claire in such an 'intimate' position even though, unfortunately, it is only me comforting her about her relationship.

Claire, ever the worrier about how things appear, jumps out of my arms as soon as Eve appears, smiling slightly _too_ brightly. That will only make things look even more suspicious to Eve, someone whose brain is probably already whirling around quickly to try and make this something it's not. She can't… I haven't been able to and I have wanted this girl, this pure and utterly perfect angel called Claire, for so long… it's almost unbearable…

"Hey, Eve!" she exclaims, wiping the tears from her eyes as if she needs to draw attention to the fact that she was crying and that this was simply a comfort hug.

"Shane is shouting for you," Eve tells her coolly, evidently pissed with Claire even though she has done absolutely nothing wrong whatsoever… the idiot! I absolutely hate the way that she is trying to make out as if someone else is always in the wrong, even when there is nothing to be done that is wrong!

"I don't care," Claire responds in a voice that could actually rival Amelie's in coldness, the feeling in there absolutely backing up her words. Unfortunately, rather than making Eve concerned as to why Claire hates Shane at the minute, it simply makes her shake her head and shrug her shoulders, letting her past (Claire that is) before slamming the door behind her.

"What was that?" Eve asks me, her voice full of venom for no tangible reason that I can think of.

"What was what?" I ask her in a blasé tone, pouring myself another cup of coffee and adding the milk without really thinking about it. I am absolutely focused on the person I call my girlfriend, even if I would prefer someone else to have that title.

"_That_," I look up and see her indicating the door… I'm guessing that that is girl code for Claire...? And the entire way that she is now pointing at me suggests that it is about the incident that she walked in on.

"Oh, that," I shrug, not really sure how to put the spin on this. Do I say that she came to me for support and risk their friendship since normally Claire would go to Eve or do I say that it was purely coincidental that she came in here when I was. "Yeah, her and Shane had a fight and she was pretty upset," I explain without going into any specifics about anything, knowing that the lack of specifics means that I cannot be caught out later on. As, you see, that is how girls seem to work: they notice the inconsequential details and then bring them back to bite you in the backside later on.

She slams her fist down on the table, making me look into her face in shock. There's one hell of a lot of anger in there, but also pain and betrayal for something _I haven't even done_… yet. As I _will_ get my Claire, I just don't know how or when.

"For god's _sake_, Michael, that was _not_ a friendly hug!" she yells at me, entirely misinterpreting the situation this time. You see, although I _wanted_ that to be something more, it wasn't.

"Yes, it _was_!" I yell back, anger consuming me like an old car consumes petrol – a lot is burnt and used in a matter of a minute time. "You see, Eve, she is upset… and you are just making things worse!" I continue, almost wanting to cry myself because the girl I love is so upset… but this makes me even angrier, causing my hand to swipe across and knock every newspaper onto the floor, along with the new four pinter of milk and my coffee mug, which causes the newly made coffee to ricochet off the walls.

She half smiles, but in a sardonic way, and backs away, as if this has just confirmed something in her mind. The anger seems to fade slightly, replaced by a bitterness so intense it makes me calm down to have a cool anger rather than the flash feeling I had before.

"Just confess it, Michael," she says in the same tone as her face appears.

I sigh wearily. "Confess what?"

"Confess that you love Claire."

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**Ooohh, whatcha think?**

**Please review!**

**We haven't had Claire's POV for a while, so I am going to have her starting off next chapter - got an idea now XD**

**Vicky xx**


	6. Forgiveness

**Chapter 6:**

**For Hanziii… sorry it took so long to write… I had a brilliant idea and then forgot it **

**I don't own anything… unfortunately.**

***ella-qabbie (I think that's your name) I've a pretty damn good idea for your request and I shall start writing it once I have finished 3 other fics... some, including this one, are just about to reach their peak, so they'll be over soon & I can start it... but your requested part will be towards the middle-end, with some _pretty_ big twists in.**

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_Claire's POV: (do you _really_ think I would go straight into Michael's after last chapter?)_

I head out of the kitchen and sigh, regretting the fact that I had to leave. Michael… he brings a certain clarity to my thoughts and just his presence helps soothe me. Shane's been a prick again, as per usual to be honest, yet those moments when I was crying, it sort of felt pointless to _be_ crying, if that makes sense. You see, it was like feeling that sense of relief that Shane is supposed to bring to me when he holds me, but with Michael. Something about him seems to be… _intoxicating_ to me; he brings me happiness when I'm down and basically is the one I go to for comforting now.

Eve doesn't seem to be around here when I need her and Shane is the problem, so it just leaves Michael. It just leaves Michael to pick up the pieces of my heart that seems to be shattering more and more every day. every time that Shane gets drunk or insults me or whatever it is that he does, my heart fractures into another piece… soon, I'm going to be entirely broken and I'm not going to have a clue what to do…

I head up the stairs towards where I guess Shane is: in his room. I don't bother to knock on the door, simply push it open to reveal a Shane sitting at a table which I presume is his desk, brushing his hair. As he hears my approach, he turns to look at me with a small smile which I don't reciprocate.

"Hey, what's wrong?" he asks me gently, nothing incorrect or whatever about his words or tone… it just infuriates me for some reason… especially after earlier, when we argued about the time. That's how infantile it was; he insisted it was earlier than it was so that I would stay in bed and when I found out he had lied, I got mega angry.

"Nothing," I sigh, not wanting to show how angry he is making me right now because I cannot be bothered to deal with him getting angry because I am…

"Evidently there something is," for the first time in our relationship, Shane _has_ to pick right now to try and be insightful into the female psyche.

"I have _just_ told you there is nothing wrong; why can you not just _accept_ that like any normal guy would?" I let the anger explode out of me, my hands rising in anger uncontrollably.

He looks amazed for a minute at the fact that I'm arguing with him, stepping back to sort of get a better gauge on the situation. Then _he_ gets angry. "Because, Claire, I'm trying to be what you want," he shoots back, a growing anger evident behind every word. "You want me to be more sensitive so I am being, but you don't want it now… I'm trying to be the perfect one you want, Claire, and yet you don't seem to want me now. You rebuff me every chance you get and it isn't normal!" he continues, his hand reaching out to clear an entire shelf of his stuff onto the floor.

It comes crashing down with an ear splitting crash but I ignore it, focusing on the man before me. "You think you're perfect?" I confirm, barely holding in a laugh. "Shane, for months now you've been going out and getting drunk every damned night; I hardly call _that_ the perfect boyfriend! Speaking of… I never asked you to be perfect! All I want is for you to be yourself and to be happy with me… evidently I've been wrong when I thought I was what you wanted."

He shakes his head and turns away, striding across to punch the wall with enough vigour to cause the entire room to shake. I half expect Eve or Michael to come up and ask what's going on… but something tells me that the look Eve gave me that they may be having an argument like us, just one hell of a lot quieter.

"Claire…I'm sorry," Shane turns around and whispers to me, his eyes brimming with tears. The sight of _Shane_ crying causes every part of anger to just drop away from me, leaving me weary of everything. "I swear, I'll do anything to stop you leaving me. I will stop going out and drinking so much… please, Claire, don't tell me you're going to leave me," he begs, confusing me. Not once in the entire argument did I mention a single thing about leaving him… I just moaned!

"Shane, honey, I don't _want_ to split up with you," I begin slowly, thinking through in my mind what to say. "But I can't cope with you being such an idiot anymore… please, just be the man I fell in love with," I whisper, moving a step closer to him.

He nods and grabs my waist, pulling me closer to him. I rest my head on his shoulder and just cry, not entirely sure why but doing so anyway because I just _can't take it anymore_! I need things to be perfect again… but I don't think they will be.

He kisses my neck softly and I react as I am supposed to, but I get the strangest feeling as I do so.

I think of Michael.

* * *

_Michael's POV:_

What did she say?

Did she just say… did she just say that she knows that I love Claire? B-but it isn't _that_ obvious, is it? After all, Claire and Shane are yet to notice, the latter to my relief – how bad would it be for Shane to know that I am in love with his girlfriend?

I sink down into the chair handily nearby and put my head in my hands, unable to look at her. I can sense her moving slightly to sit down on the opposite side of the table, not _quite_ as angry as before – I can hear her heartbeat slowing back down to normal.

"Michael, you have to address this _sometime_," she says, her voice carefully neutral… I could never do that if I knew that she was in love with someone else but I was totally in love with her, I don't think.

I look up at her, unable to face her with the fact that she knows about this. after all, I've been _attempting_ to appear as if I'm still in love with her, so if she knows why didn't she say anything before?

"I… I'm sorry," I whisper, not knowing what to say as I look her in the eye. She doesn't seem to register this, just stares at me but doesn't really _see_ me, if that makes sense. Then, all of a sudden, I see tears beginning to form in her eyes and she whirls away from me, moving across to start picking up some of the things I threw across the room in my temper. "Eve, what are you doing?" I ask her gently, standing up and looking over at her.

"Um… well, I don't think we should have everything around when they come down, if you…" she trails off but I get the idea that she was going to say 'if you want to keep your feelings for Claire secret'. After all, why would I throw things around the room if we hadn't argued?

I shake my head and stand up, moving over to her. "Eve, stop," I order her gently, hating myself for being the one to destroy her heart and not knowing that she even knew. "I… I just… I can't help how I feel. I am _so_ sorry, Eve, I didn't mean to hurt you, I swear!" I beg her to forgive me, touching her shoulder gently to get her to turn around to face me. She does so slowly, her eyes filling rapidly with tears which suddenly run down her cheeks.

"I've known for a while," she murmurs, stepping further away from me as she pre-empts my next question. "It's not obvious but when you know someone so well, I could see that your feelings for her were changing," she continues, explaining how she knows.

"I'm sorry," I repeat, not knowing what to say. "So what do we do?"

She shakes her head and shrugs. "I don't know, Mike, I really don't," she says, turning back away from me. I get the hint – well, it's more than a hint, to be honest – that she doesn't want to be near to me, so I take a few steps back and begin to clean up the mess on the other side of the room. "But I know that I can't be with you, when you love someone else," she continues after a long pause.

I nod slowly, accepting this fact. If I were here, I couldn't accept to stay with someone who is in love with someone else and has admitted it. "So, what do we tell them?"

She scoffs slightly but then does answer me. "Let's just tell 'em it wasn't working between us," she suggests. "I mean, you don't want to tell _Shane_ that you love Claire, do you?" she continues, laughing for some reason at this.

"No, I don't," I mutter, realising that the steady constant of the arguing upstairs has gone. All that remains is the sounds of lips on skin, of their bodies touching.

Once again, she has forgiven him.

I have no chance of getting her.

"Thanks, Eve," I direct this at the girl who has finished her bit and is heading out of the kitchen. She turns back to face me with a bitter smile, barely holding back a fresh wave of tears.

"Don't thank me," she mutters, in the same tone as her smile, "after all; you're the one who has to live with them being happy, don't you?"

And with that, she walks out the door.

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**So, review? I loved the response last chapter!**

**& i just finished writing - literally just - the next chapter for this story, where it all begins to go poof!**

**Vicky xx**


	7. Tension

**Chapter 7:**

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_Michael's POV:_

Long after Eve leaves the kitchen, I remain, simply staring into the distance. Claire's taken him back again. Shane's been a prick to her _again, _yet she has taken him back as if he has only decided to go to the park and have a little picnic with the dolphins of the universe without inviting her!

My hand clenches without my realising until it is so tight that my nails are almost bursting my skin: I apparently can burst my own vampire skin with my vampire nails, which is always a good thing to know. Now I know that there is _another_ way to attempt to commit suicide: continually slash your wrists until you don't have enough blood in you to survive. Hey, at least I'd be following the family tradition of dying that way.

"Michael, are you ok?" the suddenness of hearing Claire's voice behind me startles me so much that I jump into the air and fall onto the floor. I… I thought she was still upstairs with Shane _that_ way – she's taken him back and it seemed as if that was where they were heading the last time I can remember listening.

I look over at the clock on the other side of the room and realise, with a jolt, that I've been sitting here thinking of Claire for over two hours. No wonder she's back down… urgh, I don't even want to think of that.

"Um, yeah, I'm fine," I manage to arrange my features into the closest approximation to a smile that I can muster at this stage. "Where's Shane?" I ask in the most relaxed voice as I can manage, internally hoping she's about to say that she doesn't know because she dumped him or say that a vampire snuck in and killed him without my realising.

She steps towards me and reaches a hand down to me to help me up. I take it without consciously thinking about it, the rush of heat from her hand spreading through my body. The proximity of her, it makes me want to reach out with vampire speed and pull her into me, to lean down and press my lips to hers and feel her pressed against me. I love her so much, I just want to be able to do what I feel is right, to kiss her without it being wrong – I want us to be together and happy.

"He went to work," she explains as she helps me to my feet, dropping my hand and moving away with a frightening speed – does she sense something and she wants to stay away from me so that she doesn't have to tell me that she doesn't love me back? I don't know, but I have a feeling that I'm just overreacting to the situation and reading too much into it.

"Ahh, right," I say in response, not knowing what else to say. "So, you and him are ok again?" I find myself asking her this, not sure why but just wanting her to turn her face back to me again.

She turns back to me, as I desired, and she shrugs, a slightly melancholy appearance on her face. "I took him back, if that's what you mean," she says without an infliction of emotion in her voice or change in her stance.

"Why?" I hear the question escaping my lips as if it were from a different person, rather than me asking it. "Why did you do that, Claire? You know he can't make you happy."

Her eyebrows seem to rise on their own, disbelief evident on her face that I would actually say this to her. Then the disbelief is clouded over by both anger and a sort of _agreement_ with what I have said, something which she evidently is trying to fight… but she knows is the truth deep down.

"What did you say?" she asks, her voice carefully neutral as she takes a step towards me. The anger seems to be overthrowing the disbelief at the current moment in time, so much so that I half expect her to pick up the rolling pin, sharpen it with her eyes, and stab me with it.

As she takes another step towards me, I take one back, feeling the worktop press into my back. I'm cornered… not that it's impossible for me to run out of the room right now, but why would I do that when I'm close to Claire for the first time in God knows how long?

"I said that he doesn't deserve you," I say weakly, not knowing what else _to_ say. I don't want to make my feelings for her obvious, but I don't want to stand by and tell her that her and Shane make a great couple… because that isn't the truth and would just hurt me more than anything. It's a catch 22 and I hate this situation more than anything else… well, perhaps Claire and Shane getting married would be worse.

"Why would you say that?" she questions me, her eyes narrowing slightly as she tries to read my face. I don't know what I'm showing her, but I bet that it's the same thing that Eve could read and something I _definitely_ don't want to be showing Claire.

"I… I don't want you to get hurt, Claire!" I try to play the protective big brother card I had at the beginning of my time knowing her, but I know that it is a lost cause. She _has_ to realise something is up, if she is as bright as I know she is.

"Bullshit," she comments back, the anger decreasing from her face as she looks at me. Once again, she nears me by another thirty centimetres, and it's all I can do not to reach out and pull her into my arms, kissing her with every ounce of passion possible. I just manage to resist.

Just.

"What makes you think it's bullshit?" I ask her slowly, averting my eyes from her face in an attempt to stop my brain's irrational thoughts of pulling her into me.

"Try the fact I can read your face and I know there's something more that you're not telling me!" she shoots back: damn, I am too obvious then!

I wriggle out of the small gap between us without touching her skin: if I did, I wouldn't be able to control myself, I know that much. But as I walk away, trying desperately to make my body walk out of the kitchen and away from the allure of Claire, I feel her hand on my back and stop short. I can't leave. Her hand renders me unable to leave, the heat from her hand instantly spreading through my body and warming my immobile heart. It's so different to when Eve touches me; this makes me feel… this makes me feel as if I'm human again. I want to be with her so much, to tell her that I love her with all my heart – the heart that feels as if it is beating once again – that I cannot even move a finger. She's captivated me so much that I feel as if I'm a statue, if that makes sense.

"Don't walk away from me," her voice is low and cold and I get the sense that my sudden departure hurt her in a way which she cannot even identify herself. "Don't you _dare_ say anything like that and then presume you have the _right_ to leave when… when…" she trails off, evidently not wanting to continue her thought. Whether it is because she has realised her feelings for me that I _know_ are there, I don't know, or if it's just because she is so angry, it is beyond me.

I take a deep breath as I feel her hand remove itself from my back, this being the only thing that allows me to escape the paralysis her touch brought to me. Then, slower than I thought I could ever possibly move, I turn around and lower my gaze down to her perfect brown eyes, being captivated once again.

Somehow, I end up pushing her back to have her leaning against the worktop, there being even less space between us than before. The friction seems to be building and I hear her heartbeat increasing as she looks back at me. She _has_ to feel this, this electricity racing between us, the thing that has every single hair standing on end as I wait for her to speak, to hear her chimes that she makes us believe are words… when, in fact, they are the melody that a siren uses to draw in her prey.

"I… what _is_ this?" she finally whispers, her voice so quiet that I cannot be sure that I heard her.

"What?" I respond, my own voice low and scratchy as my mind whirls to try and understand what she means. There are so many reasons why she could have said what she did: I cannot leap to the obvious conclusion.

Her finger moves slightly as she signifies the space between us, almost interrupting the static energy between us as she moves. Her brow furrows but I can still read the thing I have wanted to read for so long in her eyes: the fact that she _most certainly_ has some sort of reciprocated feelings for me.

"I don't know what this is between _us_, Michael, and it's scaring me," her lower lip trembles and I want to pull her into my arms. But I can't: she doesn't know what she wants. I can see that much in her face. "I mean, I don't _want_ to be unfaithful to Shane but… but it's like everything that has been annoying me about him that I used to find so endearing is because… because I'm in love with someone else," her words cause the hope in me to rise higher, but almost levels off as I try to make sure that I don't get too hopeful just to get bashed down once again.

"Do you want to know what I feel?" I ask her gently, keeping my eyes trained on her. Every fibre of my being wants to reach out and just _touch_ her, nothing more, just to feel her soft skin beneath my fingers…

"Uhuh," she says, raising her gaze to meet mine once again. I shiver slightly as our eyes connect, the rush of something between us so great that I cannot stop myself. My hand reaches down and takes one of hers, entwining her fingers with my own as I marvel at the perfection of her skin. I don't know how something could be so perfect, but it is: she is more than I have ever dared to allow myself to dream, which is saying something.

"I love you," I whisper, finally being able to say these special words, say the eight letters that can change a life forever.

"Michael," she murmurs my name almost sorrowfully, some sort of conscience kicking in. "We're already _in_ relationships! I know I feel something for you but… but it's _wrong_!"

"He isn't right for you," I remind her gently, trying to remove the sting from the words. "And Eve and I are already over… it's official now, as well. I've loved you for so long and I have been _dying_ to tell you that!"

I take a step closer to her, chancing that she won't tell me to move away – and I'm right. We're merely an inch or so apart and I can reach down to kiss her at any moment, or her up to me. The moment is so magically perfect – and so much more than I had imagined.

"Michael… I..." I don't know what she's going to say, but her head seems to be moving closer to my own, the adamancy that this is wrong fading from her eyes…

It's replaced by lust.

She wants me as much as I want her: I don't know if it's a snap decision in her mind to realise that I'm the one for her, or whether she has been denying it for months, but it's there and I know she feels the same way.

But then an ice cold voice from the corner of the room startles me into absolute stillness, each word clipped with such precision she has probably carved it from diamond.

"Well, well," she says, "What have we here?"

Uhoh.

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_Thoughts?_

_Please don't fav/alert without reviewing_

_Vicky xx_


	8. Interruptions

**Chapter 8:**

**~all written after 2am~**

**Soooo, bit of a long update but a) life, b) starting sixth form and c) 17th birthday! hehe :D**

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_Claire's POV: - slight recapping of last chapter's events but in her POV… obviously_.

I feel every hair on my body stand on end as I feel him touching me. It's something that ought not to be happening – he's like my _brother_, for God's sake! – but it most certainly is. Only the smallest part of my brain retains the knowledge that this is _wrong_, that he is dating Eve and that I am definitely with Shane, since I forgave him not even an hour ago.

I can remember every single detail of that dream from a couple of weeks ago, but not even remember what Shane is wearing today. I'm the world's worst girlfriend – not that my actions (or rather, _lack_ of actions) here isn't exactly helping the stakes there. There's something wrong there, something so terribly wrong that I don't recollect things from today, yet a thing that has absolutely no significance in my life is locked into my mind.

His hand touches me – or perhaps it's my imagination- as my conscience gets the better of me. I protest that this is _wrong_, sinful in my mind, since we're already in apparently happy relationships. I mean, we have our ups and downs but we're happy overall, aren't we?

His response answers that for me.

"He isn't right for you," he begins. "And Eve and I are already over… it's official now, as well. I've loved you for so long and I have been _dying_ to tell you that!"

The idea that him and _Eve_, the apparently super couple of the world, have split up seems almost absurd. But I don't know what to say: do I say that I'm sorry that they split up? Do I say that it doesn't change anything because I'm with Shane still? Or do I confess I have _some_ feelings for him in a romantic sense, not entirely sure if they're able to make it to love but definitely _there_?

He takes a step closer to me and I feel an electric current run through me, an automatic response that the rational part of my brain knows cannot be happening because, hello, he's a _vampire_; he doesn't have body heat! But the rest of me tells this small fragment of control to shut up because I don't _care_; he's perfect and he wants me. I want to reach out and touch his face, to do something to make sure that this isn't another dream, but so much better.

The cold voice of Amelie destroys any possibility of this.

"Well, well," she says, "What have we here?"

We instantly freeze as it processes into our minds that Amelie is _here_. She's in the Glass House, a location she has refused to enter since Sam died, citing 'past memories' as a reason for this. She's in our kitchen… and she's seeing me with Michael, in this way, when we're both in other relationships in her mind.

Michael is the first to move. He whips around with his vampire speed and looks at her in shock, his muscles tensing as he surreptitiously moves to 'protect me'. not that it'd do much good since, a) if _I_ noticed, Amelie definitely has and b) she could throw him into me and kill me that way or simply push him aside if I dead was her end goal. No, his 'protecting of me' could only aid his ego, not anything else.

"What… why are you here?" he asks, his tone slightly more abrupt than he ought to be with Amelie… yet it is _our_ house, not hers. It may have been hers in the past but she sold it; she no longer has rights to it, no matter what she thinks.

Her almost silvery eyebrow raises slightly in disbelief at being asked this, her nose flaring ever so slightly. "Why am I here, in this house?" she repeats, contempt filling her tone. "I came to have a word with Claire here, in regards to her work. And what have I found?" she ends with a rhetorical question, leaving it hanging in the air.

I lower my head so that I cannot see her, yet it's as if she can get through my skull and force me to see her. She stands before us, proud and tall, indignated and furious beyond belief, a phoenix rising from the ashes – the ashes being her patience and humanity.

"It… it's not what it looks like," I mutter, not knowing what else to say to break the silence. As it grows, it creates more tension, more pressure on me not to say anything until I break it.

She snorts in a rather unladylike manner, striding closer to the pair of us, her dress flaring out around her legs. "Not what it looks like?" she repeats, her tone mocking our modern day dialogue. "Little _Claire_, evidently you are requiring an appointment with the optician, for I believe this is _exactly_ what it looks like: the pair of you engaging in realms which are supposed to be restricted to your _partners_." Her voice could probably cut through glass… no, that's both too sensitive to the situation (hello, surnames) and too simplistic for her. Her voice could probably cut through _diamond_….and her body could probably rip the world in two, it's that sharp and angular.

I swallow audibly and attempt to take a step back, yet to look up fully at her. But I fail because, well, I'm already leaning against the worktops so to move further backwards is impossible.

"It isn't what it looks like," Michael repeats my words, this time his voice with a little steely determination as he opposes Amelie.

She takes another step closer to him and I look up to see her face barely masking the anger beneath. Evidently the issue of fidelity is one close to her heart, not that I can see why since her and Sam were monogamous (I think) when they were together… together being rather a loose word for her abandoning him and him chasing her until days before his death.

"If it is 'not what it looks like', as the pair of you seem to have a great enjoyment in informing me duplicate times, could you please inform me what it _is_?" she snaps at us, each perfectly pronounced word fired at us with almost a control… she's harnessing the anger and making it into power. Of course she would do that.

"Well… I, erm…" Michael trails off, not sure what to say. Once again, she cocks an eyebrow as she stands waiting for a response, her dress still now she has stopped moving.

"What he means to say is that he and Eve are broken up," I say swiftly, finding the first plausible thing in my head and spitting it out.

"And yourself and Mr Collins?" she inquires, already knowing the answer. I need not speak; my colouring cheeks speak louder than any words required. "Ahh, I believe I have the answer I expected. Do you know how I view adultery, Claire? I rank it higher in the sins list than murder," she continues, lowering her gaze to stare at me directly in the eyes. The greyness of her eyes bores into my own brown ones, seeing right through into my core. The only emotion evident in her eyes is anger, an intense hatred for the pair of us.

"Yeah, that's because you're a _vampire_," Michael stupidly snorts, riling her unnecessarily. The surprise of him answering her back snaps her out of her 'I want to kill you' staring at me and causes her to focus her attention on Michael.

"Excuse me?" her voice betrays the shock, wavering ever so slightly.

"Last time I checked, you had killed _many_ people," he shrugs his shoulders, taking another step so that he is blocking me from her sight. He's being very stupid… but so brave… it's even more endearing. "And you know something? There were only _two_ vampires in this entire town that never killed a person. One is me. And the other was my Grandfather," his harsh reminder of Sam causes Amelie to flinch backwards ever so slightly in visible pain at his words.

"Don't," she whispers, a different type of anger rising in her eyes. This one isn't to do with her catching us cheating with each other – sort of – but more that she has a suspicion where Michael is going to take this (I do as well) and that she isn't going to like the conclusion he draws.

"He was a good man, Amelie, and you destroyed him. Every fricking day that I saw him, he was heart broken. He was only waiting for _you_! You could have saved him but you didn't…" he stops for a moment and I think he's finished – he's certainly said enough. True, it is all correct, yet to say this to _Amelie_ is life threatening. He's lucky she's stunned enough for him to still be alive. "You could have saved him by either letting him go entirely or being with him. But you don't care now, do you? You don't care about my Grandad _dying_ for you because you've got your new boytoy in Oliver and that's all that matters, isn't it? Having someone-" he could probably carry on for England, but he's stopped.

It's not by anything big or anything. Just the simple fact that Amelie's hand shoots across the space between them, fury the only thing on her face, and slaps him so hard in the face that he falls backwards over the chairs is what stops him. Then she turns to me, as if it was _my_ idea that he said that, but I'm guessing that logic isn't on her mind right now, or knowing that I had nothing to do with it.

She takes a step towards me and I cower back, knowing I cannot get out of here without her wanting me to. The bracelet on my wrist seems to emulate Amelie's anger towards me, gripping my wrist tightly and turning searing hot.

"Argh," I whimper, attempting to prise the bracelet from my wrist but failing miserably. She wants to cause me pain. She wants to have me screaming in agony, but I won't. So I clamp my lips together and refuse to allow her the enjoyment of my screams. If she wants to kill me so bad, she'll have to do it without the screaming.

Finally, the pain ends and she simply flashes across the room to hold me by the neck. Michael still isn't moving and my eyes flicker anxiously between him and Amelie, wondering which to focus on. Michael, the one I apparently love according to the signals being give off, or Amelie, the one who could end my life _right now_? Tough call…

"You _dare_ speak to me as if I am in the wrong?" she growls at me, entirely feral in her approach. She ignores my protests of innocence, simply grips me tighter so the air supply is almost cut off. "You _dare_ stand in the kitchen of my Samuel's house and insinuate that I never _loved_ him? I do not _care_ if it were Michael who verbalised what you are feeling: never forget that I am joined to you through the bracelet and know how you feel," she continues, her voice lowering to a hiss.

At long last, I hear Michael stirring, rising from the floor to walk behind Amelie, to place a hand lightly on her shoulder. The first physical contact he has willingly given her, I think… and what could be his last move.

Her head swivels to look at him with narrowed eyes, but she releases me. I realise just how starved of oxygen I am and gulp in the air as Amelie only looks at Michael who moves to stand with me, his hand on my shoulder.

"You truly love him?" she says to me, no emotion inflicting her voice for a change. I hesitate but nod, realising that everything about Shane was just pretend. The reason I forgave him so easily was because he was more of a friend, not a boyfriend; you forgive friends for so much more, so much easier than boyfriends… but Michael is the one I love, I'm sure of it.

"I do," I whisper, watching as her face contracts slightly. Finally, with the mask back on, she nods at the pair of us, calculating something or other.

"Very well," she responds verbally. Her eyes narrow once again and she smiles, but it's icy cold and entirely evil… "Do as you please, I no longer have a desire to ensure you remain on the moral high road. Yet there is one thing you must do."

"What is it?" Michael asks quietly, his voice barely audible over the sudden racket from the neighbour's garden.

"You must inform your respective partners of this today, without fail," she says; well that can't be too hard can it? But then she turns to me, an expression so evil on her face that it reminds me that she is her Father's daughter after all.

"Ok," I trail off, not knowing what else to say.

"There was another thing I came to say today, Claire," she addresses me directly. "I deigned to inform you in person that Mr Collins has been involved in a car crash and is currently in Morganville General Hospital awaiting treatment. That's all."

And with that, she walks away.

Of course.

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_So, what do you think?_

_15 reviews & I'll update like as soon as I get that 15th review... unless, of course, I'm asleep or I have like 5 hours of homework to do... _

_Vicky xx_


	9. Choices

**Chapter 9:**

_Apologises for being such a rubbish author - I wrote this chapter **mid August** yet I've not even had the chance to scroll through the many folders its hidden away in to get it :(_

**_I don't own anything_**

_I have a new oneshot called **DARKNESS** that is ClaireMichael. Check it out._

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_Michael's POV:_

Why does she have to ruin _everything_?

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_Claire's POV:_

Oh my god, Shane! He's been in a _car__crash_ and I've only just found out about it from _Amelie_, who only actually told me in order to screw with my head after just saying I can 'be' with Michael.

But Shane…why does this have to happen?

As soon as I'm sure she's left the house, I'm moving, forgetting everything that's happened in here, the epiphany I've had, just wanting to get to Shane. I need to see he's ok, that he hasn't died or is so seriously injured…

"Claire," Michael grabs my arm and says my name, pulling me back round to face him. I don't know what he's trying to say to me through his facial expressions, but I can't read them. For the first time, I feel slightly sickened at what I've been doing in here, what I was planning on doing when Amelie interrupted. She reminded me that I still love Shane…

… but I know my heart loves Michael more. Which, I have to say, is _not_ the combination I want to have.

"I have to go to him, Michael," I whisper, trying to tear my arm from him but having about as much success as someone would trying to get a piece of meat from a hungry carnivore. "He could be _dying_."

"I thought… I thought you love me," he says selfishly, trying to emotionally blackmail me into staying with him.

"He's your _best__friend_, Michael; shouldn't you be trying to race me down to the hospital to see that he's ok?" I find myself snapping at him, trying to get him to release my arm, no matter what the cost… it's to no avail, so far. "And he's my _boyfriend_, Michael. I… whilst we have something, I have to be faithful to him whilst I'm with him."

There, I've said it. Basically, so long as Shane and I are together, I'm not acting on anything possibly present between myself and Michael. That's fair; after all, he's already split up with Eve, so why should it be _me_ who is branded the cheater when he was the one who instigated everything?

He looks stunned but lets me go, the mood suddenly cooling in the room even further than the glacial temperature Amelie left it at. "Right… well, I guess I should give you a lift down to the hospital," he says softly, his voice entirely devoid of emotion. It hurts me to hear him talking like that, but I can't do this, not if Shane's seriously injured.

"Thanks," I reply, walking to the door and heading out to his car, shocked when I get in to find him already there. "Whoa, you move fast," I say weakly, trying to make a bit of humour but he simply shrugs.

"Yeah, well, it's sunny."

And that's the last of the conversation on the long drive to the hospital.

~x~

We arrive fifteen minutes later, Michael stopping to drop me off outside in the sun whilst I presume he goes to park the car in the underground car park. Here, I run inside, the nerves as to what I'm going to see building even higher from the Mount Everest height they got to in the car.

"Shane Collins, please," I barely manage to give his name, shaking like a leaf as I face the prospect of seeing him again.

She types in various codes into her computer, each tap of a key tormenting my brain; it makes me think of each step I took towards Michael, how much I wanted something to happen. If Amelie hadn't have entered the room, would I have kissed him? Would I now be branded a cheater and never have known that Shane is in here? I don't know… but I know now that I was stopped just in time. if I had done something I regret, then… well, the regret would be worse than it already is.

"Hello?" I realise the woman has been telling me where to go, but, like a spastic, I've just been standing here, staring into the distance probably.

"Oh, sorry," I blush and she smiles slightly.

"I know, hon, it's a bad time when someone you love's in here," she puts my preoccupation down to nerves for seeing Shane… which, in a way, I guess they sort of are. "He's in cubicle three – he's not in too bad shape. Go straight in, he won't mind."

I thank her and walk in the direction she showed me, my heart racing another hundred beats per minute (if this were scientifically possible) with each step I take towards my intended destination. The steps are so different to those of not even an hour ago, so much more solemn and painful.

I reach the blue curtain and pull it open, revealing a battered Shane inside. He's blue and black with bruises, his arm in a sling and stitched up cuts all over his body that I can see.

He looks up as I enter and smiles, but it seems slightly more reserved than usual. It sends waves of fear through me; does he know about what I almost did with Michael? Has he found out and he's waiting for me to confess?

After a few seconds, I realise that I'm just being paranoid and that he can't know anything mainly because _nothing__actually__happened_! I never actually cheated on him… I just thought about it.

"Oh my god, are you ok?" I squeal, remembering that I really _do_ love him as I walk towards him, worrying that I could have lost him. If he had died, I suppose it would have simplified matters – I wouldn't have been with Michael, in guilt for missing Shane.

"I'm fine, just a few cuts and bruises," he smiles again, but without the reservation – it's as if a curtain has been lifted from his eyes. "I told them not to call you though."

"Why?" I have to ask why he didn't want me here, my eyes clouding with tears as I think he doesn't want me… that sounds so hypocritical but I can't help it.

"I didn't want you to worry, Claire," he whispers, taking my hand with his good one. "You have work with the crazy vamp and then school and I… I didn't want you rushing down here to be with me, when I don't need anyone… how did you find out?"

"Amelie came and told me," I say, realising afterwards that I probably shouldn't have confessed to this. After all, why would she know he had been injured in normal circumstances? "I mean…Myrnin likes to monitor the emergency services broadcasts for people he knows, so must have heard your name and told Amelie, who was coming by to speak to Michael anyway about something so she told me then," I concoct this entire story in the space of about three seconds, it being so plausible since Myrnin _has_ done that before that he doesn't even bat an eyelid.

"Wow, well, that's… different, for the crazy ones to be so caring for once," he is barely able to stop himself insulting people who got me down here to him in this made up story. It's so believable that I even begin to believe it myself, even though I know it's just a load of cock-and-bull.

"Yeah, I guess so," I agree, sitting down on the bed next to him. "Are you sure you're ok?"

"Absolutely fine, honest," he says, grimacing slightly. "Just a shame I can't attribute the injuries to fighting a vamp rather than just a car crash," unsurprisingly, he's thinking of fighting vampires, but there's something surprising in there.

"Wait… did you just say the word _attribute_?" I confirm, raising my eyebrows in disbelief that he has even heard this word before, much less know what it means.

"I listen to you, Claire; I know what words mean when you use them," he says softly, and this just makes me forget _everything_ that has had me pissed off at him over the past few weeks.

As I bend over to kiss him, predictably (since this is how I seem to be rolling today), we're interrupted by the curtain being pulled open with an extreme amount of force. Just from the static suddenly in the room, I know who it is.

"Hey, are you ok?" Michael asks Shane, moving across to him and relaying the concerned best friend act.

"Yeah, I'm good, thanks for coming mate," Shane says, _finally_ appearing to be one hundred percent over the entire damned 'oh my god, you're a damned bloodsucker' thing he's had a beef with for a good few months… or not. "How are you doing in here, with all the blood?"

Michael rolls his eyes but as soon as I see that, I turn away, blushing. I don't want to look at him, not after earlier. He simply steps closer to Shane on the other side but I studiously look at Shane, smiling as he does the same and clasps my hand, until…

He drops off.

His eyelids close suddenly and his hand goes slack, which isn't something I particularly wanted to happen. Then I get a bad feeling, so look to see Michael fiddling with a canister.

"Michael," I hiss, causing him to jump. "You idiot! You could kill him!"

"He's still breathing and got a heartbeat, so he's not dead," he shoots back, his tone slightly angry. "He's just asleep. I need to talk to you," by the end, his voice seems weak and pleading, allowing me control in the situation.

"Three minutes," I agree, knowing what I'm going to be saying anyway. "Shoot."

"Claire, I know that you think just because he's injured he needs you, but he doesn't." predictably, this is the avenue he decided to take.

"No, you're wrong; to learn that Shane was in here was what made me realise what I'd be losing if I cheated on him," I say softly, not wanting to hurt him. Tears suddenly drip down my cheeks and I realise that my vision is foggy slightly from them. "Michael, I'm sorry, but I love Shane… I was mistaken earlier. I'm staying with him. I'm sorry," I repeat but he doesn't seem to hear me.

His face clouds over as he nods at me, seeming to barely be able to contain his anger. His mouth opens to speak but then closes without a sound, him rushing out of the room before I have chance to say another word. The only evidence of him being here is the swishing of the curtain as he evidently closes it on his exit.

I've kept Shane rather than chancing a future with a vampire.

I can only hope this is the right choice.

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_Kay, so I've decided to add a **little** extra bit to this story, to make it probably between 12-15 chapters in length. If I didn't, well, it would be ending next chapter, so I've done this._

_15 reviews please_

_& Don't fav/alert/read without reviewing please and thanks _

_Vicky xx_


	10. You'll Regret This

**Chapter 10:**

**I don't own anything**

**Seriously, life has been so hectic recently, so sorry for over 2 months wait.**

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_The next day:_

_Claire's POV:_

I love him, I _know_ I love him – I'm not going to stay with someone I don't love, am I? True, I feel more than a _little_ guilty that I wasn't there for him when he had his accident, but I didn't _do_ anything with Michael.

I only wanted to.

No, no, _no_! I didn't want to do _anything_ – I'm sure of it! I wouldn't cheat on Shane, not when I love him so much! I've forgiven him everything that he has done, including the Bite Club, so why can I not just get over this little obstacle of _thinking_ I don't want him? I know it's only thoughts because, well, Amelie came in at the time I was going to kiss him; surely it is fate that she stopped us doing that?

And now I have to go see Amelie, to inform her (perhaps suicidally) that I have not only not told Shane about what happened between me and Michael, but that we're together as if nothing happened…which, technically, it didn't – it was just the possibility of something there. I honestly cannot remember what I said to Amelie, though I know that it would probably have been something linked to the 'feelings' I had then…the ones that are false.

I'm in love with _Shane_ not anyone else…and certainly not Michael. And I need to tell Amelie that _now_, so she doesn't come in here to inform Shane herself of what happened…which is something she would do, now she is into Queen Bitch mode. I mean it's not _my_ fault Michael began to have a go at her about Sam now, is it? And yet she took it as if _I_ were saying it…I can guess she has a certain level of feelings about faithfulness, yet…I don't know, she didn't have the right to tell me what to do. I mean, it's not as if I'm going to _do_ anything – Michael can feel however the bloody hell he wants to, it doesn't bother me – and I'm not leaving Shane, so whatever he feels is entirely irrelevant.

"I'll be back later," I say, pressing my lips to Shane's forehead as my hands gather my bags. I can feel him nodding as he lets go of my arm, a small smile on his lips.

"You better be," he smiles, "Eve said she's not coming and Michael sounded as if he wanted to smash something up when I spoke to him earlier. Did he say anything last night at home?" the smile on my face freezes as he mentions Michael, rendering me in probably one of the most obviously fake positions in my life but not caring because _what if he knows_? What if he wasn't asleep last night? What if-? No, I'm not going to go there; if I do, I'll be paranoid for life.

"Um…no," I say, thinking what to say. "He didn't really say that much," I lie ever so _slightly_, since the thing is, he didn't speak to me whatsoever. As soon as I got home last night, he disappeared into his room or out – I'm not entirely sure. I couldn't even see his face when he left the room, so I don't even know how he felt…though I _do_ have a rather good feeling I know how he does.

Eve was locked up in her room all night – I haven't seen her since yesterday morning, when she walked out of the room as soon as I walked in. I can remember being hurt and confused but now that I know how Michael feels about me, I can guess why.

"Claire?" Shane's saying of my name jolts me out of the thoughts that begin to colour my cheeks red as I contemplate them, actually making me jump.

"Yeah?" I reply, smiling again as I realise the other one has dropped off my face.

"Be careful, okay?" he tells me, confusing me slightly since, _hello_, it's _him_ who got caught in the car crash. If I didn't know (hope) Amelie had more going for her than I currently think, I'd half think that she'd orchestrated the crash to make me decide between an illicit vampire relationship and the one that I love…even if she hates Shane.

"I'm always careful," I respond, feeling more than a little indignated when he snorts. "What? I _am_!"

"Honey, everything bad has happened – okay, things were always bad, but you know what I mean – since you came to town everything went pearshaped." So, basically, he's blaming me. Well…I don't think he is. And if he _is_, I have to ignore it. I can't rise to it; we're going to be just fine if I'm accepting – I can't be anything but after what I almost did!

"Am I here?" I answer, linking my fingers into his. He nods slowly, his eyes clouded over with confusion. "Then I've made it through all of it. And so have you. So quit _worrying_."

And, with that, I give him a last kiss before walking out of the room.

_~x~_

I head back to the house after the hospital, deciding that going to see Amelie looking like this isn't the best idea. Anyway, I need to prepare what I'm going to say as otherwise I'll be eaten in about three seconds flat.

So, after a quick change and studying of my internal notes, I set off to leave for her office. I haven't a clue where Michael is but his car keys are gone, so I presume he's out doing something or another – I _know_ I shouldn't care but…but him not being here seems strange. Especially since we left things so awfully…I hate myself for hurting him, but Shane…I'd be hurting both of them.

I walk to her offices, knowing that she has to be here or some other place in Morganville, since she never remains in her house during the day – you would have thought it would be the other way around since, you know, she's a vampire, but Amelie seems more concerned about remaining as normal as possible…I don't know. It's not like I'm in her head so I cannot comment as to what she does or why – I just need to find her.

"Is Amelie in?" I approach her assistant, who shakes her head as soon as I finish talking.

"No…we can't find her," the smallish smile on her lips fades away to become entirely non-existent, instead replaced by a furrowing of her brow. "If you were to be able to assist us in discovering her location, I would be more than grateful," she continues, lowering the "vampires are better than humans" thing in an attempt to enlist me to find the leader.

"I'll go looking now," I tell her the assistant, watching her face relax slightly as I agree to assist.

"Have her call me as _soon_ as you find her," the assistant, whose name I'm not even sure of, requests – well orders – me to do this. I nod, turning around at the same time to walk out of the building.

I have an inkling where she is; after yesterday and what was said, I know who she will have turned to, who she wants to talk to. He may not be able to talk back, but she'll find comfort in knowing he's there…if she actually is where I think she is.

Nearly one hundred percent sure she shall be here, I begin to run towards the location of the graveyard, turning suddenly as I realise I'm heading the wrong way. It's getting darker, not exactly the optimum time to be heading to a dark place full of dead bodies (though I'm sure even vampires haven't sunk to the low of draining the dead yet) where a possibly suicidal, and definitely very mad at me vampire, may be…and if she's not, then all my feelings that I actually understand her one iota will be entirely eradicated.

Within fifteen minutes, I'm reaching the gate to the graveyard, panting heavily as I climb the hill – it's _hard_ to run this far! But I know as soon as I'm here that she is here – in the distance near to where I know Sam's grave is, there is a short woman with long blonde hair – and something about her stance doesn't exactly look happy.

In fact, she looks as if she is going to collapse, standing hunched over his grave…oh, wait, that means she looks like she wants to cry. I can't see detail on her face from this distance, but her eyes look haunted, something about the way she is holding herself tells me that she isn't entirely comfortable.

As I near, I expect her to turn and confront me for sneaking up on her, even though I'm deliberately making noise. However, she doesn't even seem to hear me, simply continuing to mutter to Sam, noises I begin to make out from a few metres away:

"…I miss you more than I could possibly say, Sam; you were the one who held me together from afar, though I never let you see how much you meant to me after all those years," she murmurs, her voice almost breaking. I can hear the tears in her voice, the ones that must be rolling down her cheeks, and begin to cry myself. The rawness of the emotion in her voice has me one hundred percent believing in what she is saying. "You were everything to me…I struggle to make it through everyday without the knowledge that you are in the world with me, always trying to see me. The realisation that you were never going to press me to spend time with you is perhaps what I miss second most after simply _you_."

She continues, murmuring other things about him and either ignoring or not registering my clearing of my throat, which fades to a simple noise as the tears flow more and more down my cheeks. It's so true – I can hear every ring of the truth in her voice as she talks about not feeling anything for Oliver, continuing to simply feel for him and that she will never leave or forget him.

Finally, however, I realise that I've overstepped my mark. I need to talk to her, not listen to her ode to Sam as to how much she loves him. so I step forwards and clear my throat louder, reaching out to touch her shoulder when she whirls around, her eyes wild to cover the love beneath them, still evident.

"I heard you before…how long have you been there?" she asks me harshly, her body remaining protective over Sam rather than offensive towards me, an intruder to the situation.

"…Long enough," I mutter, unable to speak as I try to wipe the tears from my eyes as hastily as I can. Yet she still sees them, her eyes darting over my face with a small smile on her lips as she surveys my appearance.

At long last, she shrugs. "I care not for what you have heard or not heard about my feelings for Sam," she tells me, her voice continuing to ring with the honest of one hundred percent truth – only when this edge is present do I know that she will never renege on what she has said. "It is the truth, something which I do not see you partaking in sharing particularly often, especially at the minute," her tone hardens to remind me of her yesterday, the pure lack of forgiveness there causing me to shiver.

"I'm with Shane," I tell her bluntly, not putting a fancy spin on such simple words. "Anything with Michael was a mistake and never shall be mentioned again, I swear. I'm not a cheat…I love Shane like you loved Sam," I realise the last part was a mistake as her face shows her rapid loss of control as soon as another mentions her Sam.

However, she manages to regain control over herself and simply shrugs once again, this evening being the most times I have seen her engage in such an unladylike action. "Dare to compare your little _relationship_ with that boy with myself and Sam, and that shall be the last thing you do," for perhaps the first time, I can't react to her threats, because I know it's the truth. "All I want is simplicity, Claire. I lost the one person I have ever, and will ever, love in the most cruel and violent of ways. Love is not a game, Claire; I have watched the true love of mine die in front of me _for me_, which is perhaps the most painful thing you can ever experience."

I don't really understand the connotations of her telling me this for a few seconds, when it hits me. She's telling me that I cannot ever be truly in love until the person is gone or unavailable to me, which doesn't really make sense but evidently it does in her head.

"So…" I trail off, not knowing how to phrase asking her not to mention anything to do with Michael to Shane or _anyone_.

She smiles at me again, this time it being full of sadness as her hand relinquishes its tighthold upon Sam's headstone. "I shall not reveal what you partook in yesterday, Claire; you have my word," she seems to read my mind as she walks towards me slightly. "It may be a tenacious link to you, yet seeing Michael behave so unlike Sam was perhaps what had me reacting as I did yesterday – the alikeness in looks can be a curse, evidently, for I selfishly thought, for a minute, that Sam had come back and that he hadn't came to me."

For the first time, I can see why she reacted how she did yesterday. It doesn't make it right but it makes it understandable.

"Amelie, Sam always loved you and nobody else…I can't say much more than that, but know that I'm not going to cheat on Shane because I love him," I whisper, feeling a stirring in my heart indicating something against that but not caring because this is what I'm saying and what I'm doing.

We begin to walk down the path as dusk begins to fall, turning the sky a dusky pink colouring. Pausing as we reach the gate, Amelie turns to me, her face soft as her hand begins to trace my cheek for a second before suddenly disappearing.

"No, I cannot say that you don't believe that," she whispers, her eyes filled with doubt but also fear. "If Sam's death has taught me but one thing, it is that happiness is the thing we must strive to achieve, not fulfilling quotas or what we _think_ we ought to achieve. Happiness is the purpose of living, which perhaps makes my existence futile now, but yours not so. Go follow your heart, Claire, and never look back." and, with that, she disappears from my sight, her vampire speed sending her someplace where I cannot see.

Only as I speedwalk to the nearest portal (no time to walk all the way home) do I realise I forgot to get her to ring her assistant. Something tells me I don't need to.

_~x~_

I open the door to the Glass House, expecting silence and darkness. Unfortunately, I'm wrong.

As I enter the living room, I'm met with the dulcet sounds of Michael playing his guitar, a slow, melancholy tune issuing from the guitar that msut be in his hands. I have no way to escape this confrontation – evidently he wants to see me otherwise he wouldn't still be here when he knows I come home now at the latest.

So I approach the living room with the express intent of heading straight into the kitchen, when his eyes catch mine. He holds me still, rendering me unable to move as I stare at his porcelain skin catching a near honey colour in the strange lamplight.

Then he drops his gaze from mine, leaving me feeling in the dark and strangely off balance.

"You can't run from this forever, Claire," his voice follows me into the kitchen as I instantly bolt from the situation.

No, I mentally agree, but I can try.

* * *

_Thoughts?_

_Don't fav or alert without reviewing please, and thank you._

_15 reviews for an update._

_Vicky xx_


	11. Consideration

**Chapter 11:**

**Sorry for the amount of POV changes in this chapter...and for the delay in getting it!**

* * *

_Claire's POV:_

Shane came home this morning and it was possibly the best moment in the past week. I don't have a clue where Eve continues to be and Michael hasn't said a word to me in three days after that night after I saw Amelie – I've seen him for about half a second, if that. I don't want to lead him on; to be near him longer than necessary just incase it makes him think something exists between us that doesn't. I never meant to make him think…oh, I can't even go near that train of thought again.

And now Shane is home, battered and bruised but home nonetheless. It's the most brilliant part of my week so far and I hope the fact that I have to help him through his convalescence period will mean that the tensions we've had for a few weeks will hopefully disappear. After all, he's going to be reliant on me; he can't exactly be going out drinking all night, can he? Bedrest means you stay in the bed and don't leave, therefore he can't exactly go out on the town!

"Claire?" he calls me _again_, for what I think is the fifteenth time in about three hours, probably asking for some chilli even though he _knows_ I can't make it. He's already asked me three times, inbetween desires for the video console to be brought up here (there's no tv in his room after it was destroyed in one of the fights, so there's no point in that) and for different magazines. He's quite possibly the most demanding patient there could ever be, yet I don't mind because…because I owe him this.

"Yes?" I yell up the stairs, setting my homework aside as I realise I won't get chance to do anymore now that he wants me.

"Can you come here a minute?" he responds, not bothering to tell me what he wants – as usual, in the last few hours – so it means I have to go upstairs to find out what he wants, then back down again to then bring his request upstairs…that is, of course, if it is viable and not entirely idiotic, like it probably will be.

So, with a sigh, I stomp up the stairs, trying to stop my thoughts heading into that _very_ dangerous space which threatens to peek out from its exiled place every now and then. I don't _want_ to think like that; I really don't…I should only be procrastinating, yet my mind wants to go into those dangerous waters. It's not something I even want to internally debate, just incase I start blabbing about it in my sleep and Shane overhears…or, god forbid, either Eve (if she ever comes home) or Michael.

"Yes, honey?" I try and force a small smile on my face but I can tell that it looks tense just from how my facial expressions are.

"Can I have a sandwich?" he requests, using his trademark grin that always used to set my heart racing. It was what I always wanted to see, the thing that would make my day, but now it's more that I don't care whether he throws me that or not. I don't _want_ us to be like this, me being this absolute cow towards him underneath all my attempts to be the best girlfriend, yet it's just not happening at the minute to be anything _but_.

"What do you want on it?" I turn around instantly, loitering in the doorway as I wait for him to tell me what he wants in his sandwich.

"Claire…I don't want you to feel like you're my skivy," he answers, evidently hearing what is obvious in my voice. "I just…I'm sorry, ok?"

I shrug, not knowing how to say what I want to say without sounding like a nasty person: he's in bed after all, because he's been run over by a car. All I want for him is to get better and I said that I would help him, so why do I feel so…so _empty_? Empty as in I'm doing this because I should…not because I want to.

I don't know why.

"It's fine, baby, honestly," I respond after about thirty seconds of silence. I throw him the best smile I can muster before turning back again. "I'll make you one, it's fine."

And, with that, I walk down the stairs.

* * *

_Michael's POV:_

_His_ apartment has been empty for months, ever since he died. It still doesn't feel like Sam's never going to walk back in the door again because the apartment is still just so _him_. with him being a vampire, I thought that I would never lose him, that he would be alive for every single year that I would be – for him to be dead now I just would never have been able to even consider.

But the fact that his apartment is empty – and entirely devoid of visitors, since Amelie managed to stop coming here _every_ day – means that I have somewhere to come during the day now, somewhere to allow all my anger out without Shane or any other person asking what the hell is up with me.

It's somewhere to come without Claire being near me.

I just can't believe that she would do this to me; I could read in her eyes in the kitchen that she loves me, see in the way she was getting so close to me that she does – if Amelie hadn't interrupted us, she'd be with me now, no question. I know she loves me, I _really_ know it's the truth, but she won't admit it!

So I'm reduced to coming here every single day, punching the hell out of the reinforced beams in the back room, Sam's way of getting his anger out when things irritated him. This is the only thing that has, when I've gotten home in the middle of the night, meant that I haven't gone and told Shane everything and punched him for treating Claire like crap…or making her admit her feelings.

As much as it pains me to admit it, she's not going to admit that she loves me until _she_ is ready: I can push her as much as I want and I could end up pushing her further away. She's 'in love with Shane' at the minute, so me telling her she loves me isn't really the brightest idea.

I know it's the logical idea, yet it doesn't make anything any easier, doesn't make me think that I can live another day without telling her that the only person who gets me through the day is her. I mean…Shane is supposed to be my best friend, but I'm just destroying him by taking his girl – yet I don't care. I want to be happy, no matter how selfish this is, and if that means hurting Shane so be it.

After all, if it was the other way round, he would act in the flash of his heartbeat.

I continue to punch the wall, grunting furiously as I just want to see one iota of success, the beam bending one centimetre. But it doesn't; it's reinforced for a reason, something I'm sure I'm happy about deep down but it just makes me feel like crap – I'm not even strong enough to destroy a wall!

"If you continue to do that, Michael, you're going to destroy the wall and there shall be nothing left," a melancholy voice behind me startles me before the shock and anger of _her_ being here has my fists curling into balls.

Amelie.

* * *

_Amelie's POV:_

Why is it that everywhere I go that allows me to confront my feelings in regards to my dear Samuel, there is one of these children with the most complex 'love lives' that I have ever possibly seen?

Firstly there was Eve coming to me to ask to leave the Glass House and take one of the other Founder houses when I was reading one of Samuel's letters, a request which I partially agreed to – she is one of the reasons why I came to the house the other day to find them together, confirming the rumour she gave me.

Then there was Claire at the graveyard, almost following me – she interrupted my informing Samuel of the changes I have implemented since his death. And now I am here, in Samuel's apartment, and _Michael_ is here; unless they are attempting to besiege me with their incessant desire for me to become embroiled in their, frankly, immature, I believe I may be being stalked by them. Every place I seem to go, I am confronted with their antics, their questions, and I care nought for it. I have allowed a little leeway as of late to their behaviour, what with events occurring in their lives out of the norm even for Morganville, yet there is a line I believe they are near to crossing.

And hell hath no fury like Amelie when she is crossed.

He turns as I speak and I can see the shock for him seeing me here on his face, along with a certain level of anger in his expression, something I can perhaps account for. After all, I believe my words of advice to Claire were construed by her to return to Shane, yet I meant simply to be impartial and for her to understand she can go either way she desires to.

"What do you want?" he snarls at me, almost sounding as if he has had practise with his tone in regards to being a vampire, yet it is not the proper way to be speaking with me.

"Evidently, Michael, you have forgotten your place, most particularly for we are not in _your_ place of residence," I reply lightly, barely keeping my tone relatively calm as I speak to him. I desire for peace, for solitude, and that is why I have came here – I cannot say I expected to be greeted by Michael here, and he has interrupted my focus most greatly.

"It isn't yours either, Amelie," he replies, his eyes narrowing as he looks at me. He has never looked more like Sam…and more distant. It's slightly unnerving to be around him at this particular moment, especially with the current location in which we are in, yet I ignore this and simply focus on the main issue here.

"Why are you proceeding to destroy this building?" I inquire, sitting down in the seat where Samuel used to sit – I can continue to smell the stronger gathering of his scent here in comparison to other seats. Even almost one year since he last used this flat – for we lived underground for so long – he continues to linger here and I hope that this shall be forever more. "After all, it is the last thing we both have of him, Michael, so why are you proceeding to treat it with as little respect as you gave him for so many years?" I continue, my voice hardening slightly yet barely noticeably.

He turns back to me, slightly abashed as I presume my final words have caused some sort of impact within his conscience. "I'm here because I want advice from my Grandpa and I have absolutely nowhere else to go," he shrugs, giving me the impression that the situation with Claire and Shane isn't particularly amicable. I sincerely doubt the latter is aware of the situation, at least in a confirmed manner, and I can about see the situation in which Michael is currently in.

"Speak with Claire," I urge him, keen to give him advice if it means he shall leave me alone with my thoughts in my new place of solitude. "Corner her if it means you have the chance, Michael, just do not allow her to go without knowing your feelings."

He looks at me suspiciously, evidently unable to comprehend my utter change of heart from the other day. "Why?" he asks simply, resulting in my inner thoughts on the issue being brought to the surface.

"I pushed away the man I love in a misguided attempt to keep him safe," I sigh, knowing he shall be wondering why I have brought this up. "You keeping away from Claire for her to be 'happy' with Shane is not going to work in the long run for either of you. Therefore, I see the only option for you to go to her and speak with her, trying to sort things out between yourselves."

"And if that doesn't work?" he raises an eyebrow sceptically, giving me the first _proper_ chance to see someone other than Samuel. Samuel would _never_ have questioned trying to speak to me – he did it for so many years.

"Then," I smile very slightly, wondering if he is ready to leave yet. "You fight harder than before. You try and make her realise what she is missing and understand how much _you_ need _her_. And then…then you have her realise how much she needs _you_."

He nods slowly, evidently a little dumbstruck from receiving advice from myself in the realm of love, before _finally_ moving towards the portal. "Thank you, Amelie," he mutters before walking through the portal without another word.

He leaves me alone to my thoughts, to allow the aura of Samuel to wash over me as I try to forget everything that has happened. And for this, I am thankful.

Additionally, the removal of their childish relationship issues (hopefully entirely) from my life is not something I am regretting, I can assure you!

* * *

_Don't favourite without reviewing, please and thanks!_

_Vicky xx_


	12. Finally

**Chapter 12:**

**I don't own anything**

**[expect the next two updates to be fast, since this story's end is neigh!]**

* * *

_Michael's POV:_

She needs to know how I feel – and more than I've already told her. There cannot be any misconceptions about the depth for my love for her, because if there is, then perhaps _this_ is why she continues to deny her feelings! If she feels my love for her is fleeting, not truly there – almost like with Eve – then why would she risk such a 'safe' relationship to be with someone who could just love her 'on a whim'?

I know I wouldn't, so I wouldn't expect her to.

No, I have to make her realise my love for her at the same time as prompting her as much as possible to allow the feelings she holds for me within her to be released from their iron cast cage she has kept them in. I must ensure that she realises how she feels before it is too late, before she becomes embroiled in situations with Shane that break her heart further to disengage herself from – I know this because I can see she continues to love Shane; why else would she have gone back to him if she hadn't? It breaks me to pieces to know that there's always going to be a part of her that loves him; whilst, as it is now, it may be a subordinate, something barely worth mentioning, _he_ is always going to have some place in her heart.

I sound like the monster I am; the desire to rip into his flesh, to destroy him, to mutilate him into pieces so he can no longer hurt _me_ is stronger than I'd like…because, through and through, he's still my friend. He's still Shane Collins, the boy who I was best friends with through thick and thin, someone who understood me more than I'd probably care to admit. He's always been there for me – until I turned into this, that is…and then the moment I realised I love his girlfriend.

As I stride through the house purposefully after seeing Amelie, I begin to listen for signs of life, of Claire or Shane moving around, before I remember that Shane shouldn't be moving. So my attention focuses in upon Claire, listening for the heartbeat I'm so well accustomed to, the gentle fluttering pattern that leaves her so obvious to me to pick out from a room of humans – she's unique, something special.

And then I realise that she's in the kitchen, the room where we kissed, my focusing upon upstairs having been futile because she's down here…and it sounds like she's making a sandwich. This is the best time for me to do this, to strike whilst she's down here, apart from Shane, in a room which must hold at least _some_ confused feelings for her, due to how she reacted when we were together here last time.

Well, it could also remind her that there is the once forbidden aspect to the love we have and just _how_ close she was to death. But that needn't be brought to the forefront of her mind, if it can be helped.

Hastily, I make my way towards the kitchen, knowing that if I had a heartbeat, it would be faster than if I had just been for a three thousand metre run around a vampire infested part of Morganville at midnight…with a bleeding wound and a sign saying "catch me if you can!" which is saying something. There's a split second when I'm scared to enter, my hand resting upon the door as my brain thinks quite logically, what if she has managed to bury her feelings for me beneath the surface so deeply that she is able to resist them? This second is the most horrendous moment of my life thus far, I think, because everything else that has happened has been gotten through because of _her_ – recently, at least – and the knowledge that there is the chance for me to be with her at the end, once she accepts her feelings for me.

Yet I soon manage to quash this fear, because if she didn't love me, then why did she kiss me before? Why did she react as she did the other night when she came in from talking to Amelie and saw me, have that reaction to my words? There is no getting around it, on her behalf; she loves me and those feelings are close to the surface – it is evident in her eyes how she feels when her gaze lingers upon me too long and I happen to catch her eye…_accidentally_, of course.

No doubt now in my mind, I push the door open gently, yet with my vampire strength, it means that it almost slams into the wall…it's a close call with the hinges as well, the creaking sound of them louder than anything else. Only when this sound reaches my ears do I realise that Claire is humming softly, a tune sounding like one of those pop songs she likes, or, rather, she _was_, for she has stopped with the slamming of the door.

She turns to face me, her face contorted with something akin to anger before it turns to something mixed, something wrought with fear and confusion, something which she tries hastily to clear to an empty mask as soon as she can. It doesn't work: she's never been as apt as Amelie is at hiding her emotions behind a mask, and I doubt she ever will be. No, Claire is an open book, someone whose opinion and feelings can always be known – and whilst this can sometimes hurt, it also reassures me in the knowledge that she's in love with me and that I'm not wasting my time here.

"Michael," she says my name in clipped tones, neither rude nor polite, something neutral, as someone would address their landlord if they weren't as close as we are. "Can I do anything for you?" her eyes flash ever so slightly before she turns away, back to the worktop where she continues to take her frustration out on some bread, ripping it into pieces as she attempts to cut it.

Closing my eyes for a moment longer than necessary to blink, I try and gather together every ounce of courage to be able to talk to her, to try and tell her how I feel; it's not that I'm _scared_ to, no, more like petrified incase I can't get through to her that I know how she truly feels. It's obvious, it has to be – Eve realised it straight away and unless he's more obtuse than I thought him to be, Shane _must_ have an inkling that everything isn't as it was before with him and Claire. A thing perhaps worse than Claire not realising pretty soon about how we ought to be together is if he asks me to talk to him about Claire and getting their relationship 'back on track' – that would almost kill me, I think.

"Claire," I say her name slowly, turning my gaze onto her, trying to show how entirely serious I am taking this. "You know we need to talk," I continue, watching her face set into a straight line from a side view.

"We've discussed everything we need to recently, Michael; I don't see any point in you trying to instigate the same conversation again," she snaps slightly in response, something I doubt she would ever have done before she moved to Morganville. "My feelings haven't changed, so there's no point in continuing this, is there?"

"Don't lie." Is all I say to her, my voice low and quiet, me trying desperately to keep it like this, as though there's no effort in it. "Don't lie, Claire, because all that's going to do is make me fight harder and harder to get you to realise-"

She whirls round to me, her eyes ablaze with something unreadable: anger, pain…yet perhaps even _lust_, her realising that she's in love me and that's why she has to fight so much harder to be just friends with me. Unfortunately for her little, failed attempts, things haven't been like that for months. Why else would this situation be as it is if things hadn't changed?

"No." her voice is low as she fights for control in a situation where she's as out of her depths as I am – even more so, because she can't accept that she's in love with me. She has nothing to save her from waves of despair crashing over her…if you were being melodramatic, of course. "You know what I'm doing, Michael? I'm making a sandwich for Shane. And you want to know _why_ I'm doing that? Because he's my _boyfriend_…" she doesn't pause to allow me to answer, her teeth gritted by the time she finishes.

"As you told me," I respond coolly, not losing my temper because that's just not going to help, is it?

"Then why do you _keep bugging me about it_?" her voice rises to a dangerously loud level, one that has me fearful (though it may just be added precaution what with my vampire sensitive hearing) that Shane will be able to hear our discussion. It's not the best way for him to find out, I have a feeling, and he won't be exactly best pleased.

"Because it's a lie, Claire," is my reply, my eyes rising to meet her own once again. "You're lying to yourself, not anybody else. I can see it. Eve could see it; why else did she leave? Hell, even _Amelie_ can see it, and if there's anyone who can stare love right in the face and miss it more than her, I'd like to meet them!" my anger starts to rise as I grow impatient with her continual denial in regards to what there is between us.

Her mouth opens as if she's going to respond, her facial expression indicating that it will be scathing if she does, before she closes it with a stubbornness that can only be Claire. She then turns away from me and continues to make the sandwich, her breathing rate increasing as she evidently tries to calm down. Blood is pumping through her veins faster than normal, a sense of frenzy in the air as she slams the finished meal onto a plate.

She turns to walk out the door, almost past me, before she turns back to face me with a stony expression. Without a word, her free hand reaches out to close around the material of my jacket, the feeling of her soft, supple fingers so close to my skin almost overpowering me. The proximity between us almost makes me forget that she _isn't_ mine yet, that we're not together, no matter how much I want it.

"Come with me." her tone inflicts nothing as to what she wants to talk about, or even where she wants to take me – she may be forcing me to go see Shane and tell _him_ how I feel about his girlfriend, something which I've avoided for a reason. On the other, more preferable, hand, she could be taking me upstairs to ravish me, something which would be most definitely preferable yet entirely unlikely.

We head out of the kitchen and up the stairs slowly, Claire severing the contact with me as soon as she's confident that I'm going to follow her. As we reach Shane's room, she turns back to me, her face contorted with worry as she places a finger to her lips – she doesn't want Shane to know I'm here, for some strange reason.

"Hey," she says as she walks into the room, a sense of cheer in her voice that sounds put on. It's probably just me noticing everything I possibly could to find cracks in their "perfect" relationship, but it's working, as I can find issues everywhere. "Here's your sandwich. I'm going to the secret room for a bit because I want to sleep and it's really cool up there – I've been up earlier – so I'll have my phone if you need me," she says in one breath before he can say anything to her.

"Uh...but what if I need—oh, yes, you've got your phone," Shane mutters darkly, sounding almost hurt and _angry_ that Claire isn't staying around to be his skivy. I'm about to say something, to step into the room and defend her, until I remember that she didn't want me to go in, probably for a reason…we're going to the secret room together and she doesn't want Shane to know.

If my heart could still beat, it would be faster than ever before.

She backs out of the room after a few more words, these sounding more half-hearted than anything else, and avoids my gaze as she steps out beside me. Motioning up towards the secret room, her hand reaches out for the button to open it, my feet barely treading on the steps as I rush up before her, nerves striking me. I have a feeling this shall either be most pleasant or entirely break my heart-worthy.

The door slams shut and she stomps up the stairs, facing me with anger in her face. "Why the hell are you doing this?" she utilises the soundproofing of the room, shouting as loud as I've ever heard her before. "Have you not thought that I was _happy_ with Shane? No, you have to try and ruin _everything_ just to get what you want!"

Anger spikes in me at the way that she thinks that I'm just here to ruin her and Shane's life.

"I didn't _mean_ to fall in love with you, Claire!" I snap in response, taking a step closer so we're merely three or so metres apart. "I didn't think one day, oh yes, let's fall out of love with Eve and decide that Claire is the one for me! It's not that simple."

"It never _is_ with you, is it? Everything is just so _complex_, be it about you being a ghost and…" she trails off but I know what she was going to say.

"What?" my tone lowers into a harder yet quieter tone. "Because I'm a _vampire_, everything is more complex?"

She nods her head defiantly. "Yes. You're just trying to be Mr. BIG, I'm a vampire, follow me! Well it isn't working on me, Michael…I…I don't want to betray someone just because you think you're in love with me on a whim!"

She thinks this is a whim. She thinks that I haven't loved her for so many months, I just decided to love her and that it could be over before she truly lets it begin.

"What the fuck have I _done_ that makes you think I'll just _discard_ you like some unloved piece of shit?" I shout this, anger coursing through my veins if it can, for I'm a vampire. I can see the effects of the anger Claire has, however; the splotches on her face are merely the start of it, along with her clenched fists and tight expression.

"Nothing!" she screeches before evidently realising that this makes no sense. "I mean…you loved Eve and now you don't! How can I _trust_ you?" she wails this slightly, almost hysterically, and something in her tone just gives me the impulse to take a step forwards.

It's a good impulse I think, especially since her arms are wrapping round my neck and her lips are pressing themselves to _mine_ of their own accord.

Finally.

* * *

**please don't favourite/alert without reviewing!**

**vicky xx**


	13. Guilt

**Chapter 13:**

**I don't own anything**

* * *

_Michael's POV:_

I don't think she realises what she's doing, to be quite honest, because there seems a frenzied nature to the way that she's kissing me that doesn't exactly fit with how she was screaming at me before. As well as that, the way that her arguing made no sense to _either_ of us gives me a pretty good indication that she's confused, and that she'll use that confusion as an excuse for her current behaviour. I will _not_ let her; I will _not_ allow her to brush this under the carpet of lies, the shield that she defends her love for Shane with and the separator of the nature of her feelings for me.

She's been allowed to do this before, to get my hopes up and then let me down, just because Shane happened to be in an accident: I can't allow it to happen again. My heart, no matter the stillness of it, cannot cope with her abandoning me again, making me think she loves me, just for her to then go back to Shane, as though nothing ever happened. Claire has too much power over me, I know this, but I don't know if she realises the potentially dangerous vampire she could release, if she decided to go against what she wants, go back to a life of morality, if she chose Shane again.

There doesn't seem to be an issue at the minute, however, since she's kissing me like there's no tomorrow, and I'm doing the same, as who knows if she'll actually _pick_ me? This girl has all the power - just like she always has, really – and there's no changing this, because she has two guys in love with her irrefutably, so it's all down to her who she loves the most. He can manipulate her, make her think that he loves her more than anything, and maybe she'll fall for it – or, alternatively, she could even go for me: the one who loves her for being _her_, the one who knows adversary because of what he is, the one who knows that they're meant to be together, as it's always supposed to have ended up this way.

Within a few minutes, Claire's beginning to realise what she's doing, _who_ she is enjoying kissing, and her eyes open slowly to look at me. She doesn't cease kissing me for another few seconds, the horror of what she's doing evidently taking a while to spread through her, before she finally tries to push me away. I could keep a hold on her, make her stand close to me, but what would be the point? It would make her resent me, remind her that I'm _not_ human, and it wouldn't exactly help me. So I release her, allowing her to walk all the way across the room, before she turns back to me, her eyes blazing. Everything about her screams anger, makes me think that she's about to scream blue murder at me, before I remember that she already did that, and nothing could equate to her anger prior to her kissing _me_.

"I…I…" she stutters, unable to form coherent sentences within her mind, so I take the opportunity to talk, running my hand through my hair before doing so.

"If you need reminding, it was _you_ who kissed _me_," I decide to tell her, just on the off chance that her brain could misinterpret everything that happened over the past ten minutes, and have her thinking I forced myself on her. "And I would also like to say that, given your arguments made no sense before, perhaps you shouldn't try and refute that I'm a good guy, besides for the vampire issue, and that I don't act without knowing I believe in it. Like that I believe in my love for you, and that we're destined to be together."

Suddenly, the fiery anger within her fades away to a pinprick, then disappears into absolute nothingness, leaving behind a broken girl, someone confused and fatigued by everything. "Don't," she whispers, a completely different volume to earlier. "Don't tell me that you love me, that I need you, because I don't _know_, alright? I don't…I can't figure any of this out. I know what I want…but I don't see how I can have it." Her voice cracks at the end of the sentence, and I feel a pang of guilt, given that I'm basically ripping her to pieces, forcing her to make a decision between the pair of us. Then it disappears as I remember that I _want_ this, for the simple fact that Claire realising she wants _me_ will only make me happy.

So I try not to notice the tears streaming down her face as she turns away from me.

* * *

_Claire's POV:_

I don't know. I don't know anything anymore; I suppose that I always knew that helping Shane was because of guilt, and that any love I feel, _felt_, for him happened to be fabricated by this feeling that I ought to do everything I could for him, because of what happened in the kitchen. I just don't understand…I can't decipher what my feelings are, what they add up to. I think that Michael is the one for me, I really do, but how does that work? How do I tell Shane, tell _anyone_, that I dumped someone who I professed to be the love of my life…for my best friend's ex boyfriend? Someone who is a vampire, someone who will never die, unlike me: Eve could deal with that, somehow, but I'm not sure how I will. I really don't know how I will.

And now, even in my own thoughts, I know that I've come to a decision without even having to really think about it; I didn't have to think about whether it would be Shane or Michael, in the end, because I wouldn't have kissed Michael otherwise, would I? I wouldn't have reached out and pressed my lips to his – not the other way around, as he rightly pointed out, since I could have twisted that in my own mind – if I didn't love him. I could have affected it in anyway, the relationship between us, and if I wanted Shane, I would have screamed at Michael to go away. I wouldn't have taken him up here, wouldn't have invited him to basically destroy all my arguments for why this is _wrong_.

I have nothing further to argue. I have nothing further to try and discuss, because there _is_ nothing further; I agree with everything he's saying, and know that it would have happened before, if Shane hadn't been hurt. His accident put things into a different focus for a while, a focus that clouded my judgement, because I should have realised that accidents don't keep a relationship going. All it has done is make me resent him, for making me do things I would have done before without question.

It makes me realise that I love Michael, without a shadow of a doubt.

I walk across the room once again, wiping my eyes as I realise all my actions suggest I feel different things, and that this must be ever so confusing for him. However, he waits patiently for me to talk, something in his eyes that drives me on towards where I want to talk faster than perhaps I would have done otherwise.

_Lust_.

"I…I think I love you, Michael."

As soon as I say the words, this time, his arms are around me, and his lips are on mine, but I don't fight them off.

The only thing that runs through my mind for a minute is guilt: what do I tell Shane?

* * *

**Please don't favourite/alert without reviewing, thanks!**

**Vicky xx**


	14. Finale

_Chapter 14:_

I'm sorry, I've had literally no time to reply to the fantastic reviews from last chapter! but thanks for reviewing, and here's the final chapter!

**also, go read **Insanity's Finest **by **Flying Penguinz

* * *

_Claire's POV:_

Words escape me as I kiss Michael back, for the first time feeling completely as though this is right, with no lingering thoughts about my _boyfriend_, other than to think about how I end it with him. It's obvious that there's no way I can go back to him, especially because I realise just _how_ much I love Michael, but it's still weird to think that he's lying in his bed downstairs, without one iota of a clue about what I'm going to do.

Somehow, I find myself pulling away, a grin spreading wide on my face as my eyes meet his for the first time, properly; it's as though I've never seen (never _wanted_ to see, more like) the deeper layers, ones of love and adoration, all of which is focused at me.

"I love you too," he continues the conversation from before (the conversation which consisted of me telling him I love him) and the smile he gives me…it's enough to make my heart melt. Quite literally, it seems – I can feel my heart beginning to beat faster, just because of the intense nature of the look he's giving me. And the way that he _says_ 'I love you'; it's not just the words, as though he's rushing to get them out as quickly as possible, but rather that he _means_ them without one shadow of a doubt.

"Just…what do I tell _Shane_, Michael?" I ask him softly, and he puts his arm around me, pulling me into his side. It's both romantic and comforting at the same time, and though his skin isn't _cold_, it certainly isn't warm like Shane's. "I'm meant to be looking after him, and all I've done is—"

"All you've done is run around after him, as a friend would do," he tells me, his voice indicating that I need to believe him with this. "You've done what I would do, because you thought you loved him more than anything else."

"But I don't," I say needlessly, knowing that there's absolutely _no_ point in saying this, because if I loved Shane so much, would I really have just been kissing Michael like that?

"I know that," Michael replies patiently, his lips pressing into the hair on the top of my head gently. "And I'm sure that, deep down, Shane knows that as well. But, no matter how much I want to avoid it, I think you need to tell him…if you _want_ to be with me, that is."

I sigh, and nod slowly, pressing my face into his chest as much as possible; it's not as easy as normal, because of his vampire strength, but I manage to press it in enough to feel the skin and muscle moving – just. "I'll go do it now. But I won't mention you. I think it'll be hard enough ending it with him, without then proceeding to inform him that I've been cheating on him with his best friend."

Somehow, I manage to disentangle myself from Michael's arms, and remove my head from his chest, reaching up to give him a peck on the lips prior to what could be the end of my life. I…it sounds so fickle, since I was _sure_ I loved Shane so much the other day, but it's almost as though Shane never existed for me. My heart only has room for Michael, in terms of romance, and Shane's been cast aside – he'll always be _important_ for me, but I guess that the chapter of my life that Shane has occupied is, indeed, completely over.

Strange.

_~x~_

It's just as weird, to be walking across the hall to Shane's room, and to be opening the door, knowing that someone who loves you more than anything will be behind it. Or, at least, that's how I think he feels about me…I'm not sure. But anyway, I'm still not sure _what_ I'm going to say to him, because how do you end a relationship? Do you say the cliché, _"it's just not working between us anymore?"_ or do you give a bit more of an explanation, like, "_I don't think we're right for one another. You're…you're different to me, and it worked at first…but it's not working anymore. I'm sorry."_

I DON'T KNOW!

I've never dumped anyone before – I've never _been _in a relationship before, so I don't have a clue how to go in here and to break Shane's heart.

"Hey, do you have my drink?" that's the first thing that Shane says to me as I enter the room, nothing to indicate that we're (currently) in a relationship. All he wants, as he has done for most of the last few days, is for his latest snack – or, in this case, drink.

"No, I don't," I reply, my tone serious as I shut the door. All I can taste is Michael on my lips, and it's…_off-putting_, to say the least. "Look, we need to talk, Shane."

He probably knows already. He probably realises that, from these few words, that I'm going to end it. Then again, you never know with Shane. Or you don't, until he speaks.

"We're over, aren't we?" he says ruefully, a strange smile twisting onto his lips as he speaks. "I can tell; girls never say those words unless they're planning on breaking a guy's heart. And that's what you're doing, isn't it?"

I don't speak, merely take a step forwards and place my hand on his, looking deep into his eyes. They're nothing like Michael's; they're guarded and fierce, with barely any emotion shining through. There's literally nothing in there, and I've never seen this before, as I've never had a set of eyes to compare Shane's to. Now I have Michael's…and they're complete opposites, nearly no similarities whatsoever, not in any emotions there whatsoever.

"I'll take that as a yes, then," Shane says bitterly, looking away from me at the same time as ripping his hand from underneath mine. "Who is it? I'm guessing that there's someone else, as you wouldn't decide to tell me like _this_ if it was because of something I'd done, would you?"

I have to hand it to him, he's perceptive about things other than fighting as well – and I've never given him credit for this before. Maybe it's just to do with me, I don't know, but he's noticed something that I never expected _Shane_ to notice.

"It doesn't matter," I say hastily, but I know that it's not going to be enough. "You…it's not important, honestly. I…this isn't working for either of us, and it's not you, as you've not changed. I have. And we aren't the same couple as we were before; we're different now, and it isn't possible for us to overcome our differences, I really don't think." _Well_ done, Claire, you've managed to combine two 'this is over' speeches into one, something which ought to be a new record!

Any approximation of a smile slides off his face, and instead, a glower spreads over it. I shouldn't have expected anything else – I'd have been worse, if he'd have been breaking up with _me_, but I seem to get the impression that he's aware that it's over. There's no point trying to wrestle to get us back together, and I'm sure that he's not going to try. There's only so much that someone can take, and we've been distant for a while.

I don't know. Maybe he'll fight for me – maybe he won't. If he doesn't, I won't think less of him, and it'll make it far easier for me.

"Fine, go to your _new man_," he growls, and it's the first time that I've ever had the angry side of Shane directed at me. I won't lie; it scares me a little, but I know that _this_ isn't really at me, but rather that I'm dumping him, and ending everything we've had. "I'll see you later, Claire. Don't come in here again."

Perhaps I ought to be crying. Perhaps I should be regretting this and begging him to take me back. Perhaps I should be telling him I love him. But none of these things are true. All I feel is sort of _relief_ that I'm no longer living a lie (though I've been aware of my love for Michael _properly_ for about fifteen minutes, so it's not been living a lie _that_ long) and the fact that I can go upstairs and tell Michael that I want to be with him without _complete_ guilt.

(As it is a bit hasty to be moving into another relationship, I suppose.)

But, as I shut Shane's door and walk back up towards the secret room, I know that things are going to be different from now. I don't know if Michael and I will be official in a week, a month, or even if we'll wait until Shane leaves the house. But, to me, none of that matters. What matters _now_ is that I realise what Michael's been trying to tell me all along: I love him, and he loves me.

And, together, we've got a chance at being something great and different. If we fail, then I can at least say that I went with my feelings, like a lot of people do, and that it didn't work. But, hey! I'm a teenager! I can fall in and out of love if I have to.

I just hope that my love for Michael doesn't fade before I die. As he is _definitely_ the sort of man I could spend the rest of my life with.

* * *

_I get that this is quite an obscure ending, with a lot of ambiguity. I did it like this because this was where I wanted the story to end since I started it – I already knew that this scene would happen – and I wasn't changing that._

_And it's how I actually want a story to end; I don't want the cliché "they kiss and are happy forever" for a change, because that's how I usually write romance, and I wanted this to be different._

_I'd really, really appreciate it if you didn't favourite or alert without reviewing. Thanks & thanks for reading the entire story!_

_-Vicky xx_


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